


Hero

by Lafaiette



Category: Deadpool (Comics), Spider-Man - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe, Angst, Child!Peter, Fluff, Humor, M/M, Mentions of Cancer, Pre!Weapon X Wade
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-12
Updated: 2014-05-18
Packaged: 2018-01-12 03:37:42
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 25,267
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1181432
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lafaiette/pseuds/Lafaiette
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Wade Wilson, consumed by cancer and hoping to find a cure with the Weapon X program, meets a little Peter Parker, lost in the streets.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Autograph

The bar was cozy, it smelled nice, moonlight entered from his high windows and the smell of good coffee and food lingered in the air. It was definitely one of the best place Wade had ever stopped by.

The guy at the counter was nice too, an old man who offered him free peanuts with the beer he ordered. Wade knew he was looking at him with friendly worry, probably alarmed by his pale face, the dark circles under his bloodshot eyes and dry mouth, but he didn’t ask anything and kept talking about normal things, such as the weather outside, politics and superheroes. Wade answered and commented as best as he could, trying to ignore the pounding headache that had been haunting him for months.

“And I’m not saying I’m not grateful to Captain America, no freaking way, son.” the bartender was saying as he cleaned the counter with a wet cloth. “But he should really be more hard with those bad people he fights. A real punishment or they will never learn their lesson!”

“Captain America isn’t ruthless, old pal.” Wade chuckled, suppressing a bad fit of coughs. “The bad people he fights shit themselves just seeing him appear. That’s lesson enough.” He wheezed and drank more beer hoping it would clear his throat.

The old bartender eyed him sadly and passed him more snacks.

“It’s good seeing him again, you know?” he then continued while Wade started eating some chips. “It’s like a fragment of my past just came back from the war. I hope he’s not so confused anymore, poor boy.”

“Yeah, he’s my hero too.” Wade nodded looking at his reflection on the mirror behind the counter. “I remember seeing him on TV when I was little. He was cool as fuck.” The reflection frowned and the mercenary adjusted his jacket and collar, grunting when the motion made his head sting again.

“You okay?” the old man finally asked; probably curiosity and worry won over him. “You don’t look good.”

Wade bit his lips and the paper in his back pocket suddenly felt heavier, hot against the old jeans. That paper was a promise, the key to a better future without pain and death, but it also contained so many uncertainties and he was _scared_. He didn’t want to die, of course, but what if that program wasn’t true? What if they were all a bunch of lies and shit?

However the reflection in the mirror convinced him. It always did, together with pain, endless headaches and blood spitted in the basin every morning.

“I’m… not feeling well in this period, no.” he admitted. There was no point in denying it, plus the old man looked like a gentle person. Wade coughed some more before concluding with a smirk: “But I will be okay soon. I found a solution.”

The bartender hummed softly.

“I hope it will work then. You are young, it’s old people like me who should give space to the new generations.” A smile appeared on the man’s dark lips and Wade found himself returning it among stabs of pain. “Good luck, son.”

“Thanks.”

The nice grandpa didn’t continue his chatting, maybe deciding to leave the ill man in peace, and Wade sighed, rested his chin on his hand and closed his eyes, finding comfort in the small noises of glasses being moved and washed, the soft speaking of the few people sitting at the tables, the inviting smell of food.

He was so lost in the dark sea of nothingness his mind had fallen into that he didn’t hear the door open.

“Oh? Hi there. What can I do for you?”

A sniff then a small, scared voice spoke: “I-I’m lost, sir.”

Wade opened his eyes and looked at his left; a child with big glasses, combed hair and clean, maybe too-serious clothes was gripping the edge of the counter, barely able to reach it. His brown eyes were scared and full of tears.

“I-I was walking with my aunt and uncle, but there were so many people and I didn’t see them anymore.” the child sniffed again, his lower lip trembling dangerously. “It was dark and… and Aunt May always says it’s not safe to walk in the city at night. So I came here.”

The bartender instantly softened and cooed.

“Oh, don’t worry, sweetheart, you can stay here as long as you want. Where did you lose your aunt and uncle? They may be nearby.”

“The flower shop.” the child’s voice cracked and he started sobbing. “What if they never come back, sir? What if they will never find me?”

The old man tried to calm him with gentleness, then told him to sit and drink something warm while they waited for his relatives.

“Do you like hot cocoa?” and the kid of course nodded with a small smile and tried to climb the stool next to Wade. The mercenary noticed his difficulty and helped him lifting him by the armpits, making him yelp in surprise.

“T-Thanks.” the child babbled shyly and Wade smiled at him, returning to his beer. Minutes passed and the kid calmed down completely, thanks to the warm drink and the bartender’s jokes and reassuring words.

He occasionally glanced at Wade - the merc could feel his timid stare -, probably curious about his look. The man was big and tall, there were some cuts on his calloused hands, he coughed a lot and seemed in pain. He must have been a strange sight for a child so young.

Wade suddenly turned to him and the boy gasped and looked down at the cocoa, the blush spreading over his ears and neck. His glasses were too big for him, Wade thought with a frown. They constantly threatened to fall from his nose, straight into the steaming cup.

More minutes passed and the child became restless and teary-eyed again. It was indeed getting late and, even if the bar was open until midnight, it wasn’t good for the boy to stay there for so long, waiting for his two relatives who were maybe looking for him in a completely different area. 

“How does your aunt look like, kid?”

The little one looked up at Wade, hot tears streaming down his red face, surprised by being addressed by that big man with blond hair and dark bags under his eyes.

“She… she’s skinny and has white hair.” he answered shyly, wiping off the tears with a sleeve. “She smells nice. Like biscuits and books.”

Wade snorted and picked up his bag resting near his stool.

“That’s not very useful, but okay. I’m used to working with less.” he says getting up and putting some money on the counter to pay for his beer and the child’s cocoa. The bartender gave him half back, saying he didn’t need to pay for the kid, it was free.

“Are you going to help him?” he then asked and Wade nodded, looking at the child.

“I’m sure they are somewhere around here looking for you.” he said and the little one’s eyes brightened with hope. “And I’m sure it would be easier to go out than stay here where they can’t see you, kid. Wanna come with me?”

The child frowned, suddenly worried, and eyed the strange man before him. He seemed strong, his eyes were kind and amused, but also filled by pain and his breath was ragged, as if he had run a lot.

He didn’t look bad, but he didn’t look like a person his aunt would have liked seeing him together with either.

“Aunt May and Uncle Ben always tell me I must not go with strangers…” he mumbled fidgeting and refusing to leave the stool. Wade chuckled again - and this time without coughing - and replied: “Well, they are right. Not all people are cool and handsome like me.”

He winked and the boy giggled, also reassured by the bartender’s nod towards the strange man.

The old man looked like a grandpa, a darker and older version of Uncle Ben, so the child decided to trust his judgment.

“O-Okay.” he said and Wade helped him get off the stool, taking his small hand into his own.

“Since we are going on this important quest, we should tell each other our names, brave companion!” the merc solemnly said using a deep voice which made the child giggle again.

“You sounds like Thor!”

“Maybe I _am_ Thor! In disguise! He’s a god, he can do that, right? His brother can at least.”

“I’m Peter.” the kid said, his smile bigger, and Wade bowed playfully.

“Ah, a name worth of such a fair lad! Mine is Wade, my young friend.”

They said goodbye to the old man - who wished them good luck - and exited the bar, finding themselves in a stream of people chatting and talking loudly in front of the stores, lights all around them, a chilly wind making their jackets and hair move in the air.

“Where is this flower shop? They may still be around there.”

Peter pointed at a vague direction, not looking very sure.

“So… your aunt is a nice lady who bakes and reads, probably a sweet granny, like the ones you find in the books. What about your uncle, kid?” Wade looked around, hoping to find a skinny old woman or to smell a floral fragrance that could lead them to her.

_Pity I’m not like Wolverine. Not yet._

“My uncle is tall! Maybe as tall as you!” Peter suddenly looked excited and proud. “He’s is super strong too! He can lift me up in the air and he puts me on his shoulders like it’s nothing!”

Wade let out an amused sigh. The child was describing only the details that most looked important to his young mind, the ones that made his aunt and uncle so special to him.

“That’s cool, but what about their clothes? Do you remember what they were wearing today?”

 _Those_ were useful details. Clothes and special characteristics had often helped Wade locate his… targets. Peter didn’t need to know that, but he was usually good at finding people. This time there would be no killing though, he thought with a grimace.

Unfortunately Peter’s lost and sheepish expression told him that the kid didn’t remember at all.

“Fine.” Wade sighed again, feeling the headache come back.  “We will look for them around here. If they are smart enough, they didn’t go too far.”

“They are smart!” Peter sounded almost offended now. “Aunt May is the smartest person I know!”

“What about your mom? Usually kids always say their mother is the cleverest.” Wade looked down at the child when no answer came. He seemed more serious now, not sad, but his pace was slower.

“I don’t have a mom. Or a dad. I live with my aunt and uncle, they are taking care of me.”

“Oh.”

Wade cleared his throat, cursing himself for having been so tactless. He was about to change topic, but Peter was faster.

“And you, mister Wade? What about your mom?” His big, brown eyes became worried again, but this time for _Wade_ and not his current situation. “Does she know you are ill?”

The merc frowned, unpleasantly surprised by the fact that even a young child could understand how serious his conditions were. It probably wasn’t that difficult to realize, that was true, but he didn’t want to explain him what cancer was and that he was motherless because of that same disease.

“I don’t have a mom either.” he curtly said. “But my health will get better soon. I’m going to visit some special doctors tomorrow.” He coughed and wheezed and felt Peter’s grip around his hand become stronger.

“Mister Wade, if you want to go home, go. Don’t worry about me. I can go back to the bar to wait for my aunt and uncle.” the child sweetly said. “Or I could go to the police!” He even stopped, thinking that was a great idea, but Wade urged him to keep walking.

“Don’t be stupid.” he gruffly told him, not used to that gentleness and selflessness. “I can’t leave a kid like you alone at this fucking hour of the night.”

Peter looked like he just had a heartattack.

“You _swore!_ ” he murmured with frightened awe. “You said a bad word!”

“Sorry.” Wade mumbled, blushing. He actually never realized how much he did that. He had been using unpleasant words for as long as he could remember and never cared about it, but now that Peter had made him notice he suddenly felt ashamed. “Pretend you didn’t hear anything, okay? I don’t want you to become a little thug. And I assure you my presence can do that. I have this power over people, I bring the worst out of them.” He was joking, of course, but the young boy gaped at him and his eyes became tremendously large behind the thick lenses.

“You are a superhero?! Like Captain America?”

Wade blinked, taken aback by those words; it was the first time someone had called him ‘hero’, let alone compared him to Captain America. He was just a merc, a talented merc, but that was it. Nobody ever saw him differently, nobody ever had a big consideration of him. But Peter’s face was so adorable, so filled by emotion and awe that he couldn’t help but show a smartass grin and lie, just to make that child happy and proud.

“Damn, I talked too much!” He kneeled, not caring they were in the middle of the street, and looked straight into Peter’s eyes.

“Yes, I am a superhero. Well, not _fully_ , but I’m going to become one entirely tomorrow!”

Peter started bouncing on the balls of his feet.

“So you really have powers?!”

“Yes.” Wade lowered his voice, making a serious and conspiratorial face. “Promise you won’t tell anyone, sweetie. It’s a secret, my faculties are not completely developed and I can’t risk problems with my enemies.”

Peter nodded frantically and plead, both with his voice and eyes: “Can I see something, please? You said you bring the worst out of people.” His eyes became so large Wade was almost sure they were going to fall out of their sockets. “Does that means you can transform people? Like… like the witches in the tv show I watch every Sunday?”

“Yeah, but it’s too dangerous to show you now.” Wade said getting up and patting the soft head. Peter let out a disappointed “aww” and the merc squeezed his hand gently.

“Maybe next time, okay? After all I’m going to become famous - well, even _more_ famous - soon, so you will hear a lot about Wade Wilson!”

“Can I have your autograph now?” Peter asked with a smile that was both shy and sly at the same time.

 _This kid is clever. He will go far._ Wade thought hiding a smirk behind a hand, for the first time faking a fit of coughs and not really having it.

“Of course! Wait, we need paper.” the merc looked around, then found a hot dog stand standing against a building.

“Hey, I know you just drank that hot cocoa, but are you hungry, kid?” he asked and Peter nodded fast again. He noticed the hot dog stand too and blushed and raised his eyes to the blond man, who was looking at him with a smile and a raised eyebrow.

“What, you don’t like hot dogs? Is that even possible? We can find something else if you want to.”

“No, no! I _adore_ them!” Peter bounced some more. “They are my favorites!”

“Onward then!”

Peter asked for just one hot dog, even if Wade wanted to buy him more because “you are so fucking scrawny! … Oh, sorry.”

The merc also grabbed some clean napkins from the stand and handed two to the kid and put one in his pants to use it later as paper for the autograph. The child started asking him all the different missions he had been in, dying to know if he had met Captain America or Magneto.

“Of course!” Wade lied. They walked in an closed alley to eat better and not get lost in the crowd. Peter forgot about his aunt and uncle -  not completely, but now his attention was all for Wade and his stories. Once in a while he looked at the unknown faces that passed by, but when the merc told him how that special program was going to help him develop better his powers, he looked at him and him alone.

“What are they going to do to you?” the kid adjusted his glasses, the eyes behind them full of joy and excitement. “Can you tell me more? I promise I won’t tell anyone!” His shyness came back. “I just really love science a lot.”

Wade laughed, trying to stop the fit of coughs already building in his chest, and said: “I can see that. You look like a little scientist, you know? What’s the deal with these, boy?” He pushed the glasses further on Peter’s nose, but they were simply too big and large and they slipped down again. “Damn, how the hell don’t you go insane having these on!”

“My dad wore glasses like these.” the kid timidly explained. “I saw the photos in Aunt May and Uncle Ben’s room. So I wanted glasses like his.” He brightened again. “He _was_ a scientist!”

“That’s… cute.” Wade admitted patting his head.

“Do I really look like one, mister Wade?”

“Yeah. A skinny and short scientist, but you definitely look like one.”

Peter grinned at him, blushing with joy, then, after some deep thinking, tugged at the sleeve of his jacket and asked: “Mister Wade, is it not going to be dangerous, is it?”

The merc gulped down a big bite of hot dog and the fear he had managed to control came back, rushing over him like cold water. The page inside his pocket became heavy again and he realized he still needed to convince _himself_. No matter the pain and bad sight in the mirror he received every day, his mind and heart still had to accept that some people of the government were going to put their hands on him to cure his cancer and make him become someone better. A superhero. A _hero_.

“Of… of course not! It’s completely safe!” Wade babbled patting Peter’s back. “It’s gonna be long and boring for sure, but it’s safe! No danger, no problems.” He showed a smile, hoping it was confident enough. Apparently it was, because Peter seemed relieved and nodded happy.

“That’s so cool! I can’t wait to see you on TV with Captain America!” he then giggled, hiding his mouth behind his hand, and Wade nudged him.

“Hey, hey, why are you laughing? It’s not good to laugh at older people!” he exclaimed pretending to sound offended.

“Sorry.” Peter giggled again. “I was thinking about Aunt May. She will love you for sure, she likes men like you.”

“ _Jesus Christ_.” Wade made a puking sound and the child laughed harder. “I didn’t need to know that, Petey! What the hell!” He snorted noticing the boy’s mirth and pinched his cheek. “Stop it, you little rascal. That was disgusting.”

They finished their hot dogs and got up from the boxes they sat on to resume their quest; Peter had some crumbs on his sweater and Wade kneeled down to clean them off it. He also swiped his thumb on the corner of his mouth to remove some ketchup, all while Peter talked and listed his favorite animals, which included spiders and other less pleasant life beings.

“Why do you like bugs so much anyway?” Wade asked raising quizzically an eyebrow; Peter looked outraged.

“Spiders are _not_ bugs!” he yelped, so loud that two or three people turned to them. “They are arachnids! It’s completely different!”

“Sorry, sorry! I didn’t mean to offend your precious friends.” the man looked amused and disgusted again. “Please tell me you don’t sleep with them.”

Peter dropped his head, almost disappointed.

“No.” he pouted. “Aunt May doesn’t let me to.” He instantly lightened up. “But I have a lot of books about them! And Uncle Ben promised me he will let me take some photos once I’m older!”

“I seriously hope you will get interested in different pictures, boy.” Wade chuckled, then coughed and spitted some blood into his hand, cleaning it on his jacket not to let Peter see.

“I want to become a scientist and a photographer who takes pictures of spiders for a living!” the child insisted and Wade thought that was a pretty accurate description.

“You know pictures of spiders don’t sell that much, don’t you?” he joked as they stopped at the traffic light. The flower shop was right ahead, its colorful sign pretty hard to miss. “You would probably earn more selling some dead ones.”

“No!” Peter shrieked again and Wade burst out laughing; a bad idea in his poor health conditions, because he started wheezing and clenching his teeth due to the unbearable pain in his head.

“M-Mister Wade?!”

The man shook his head and, once breath returned into his lungs, he was able to reply with a croaky voice: “I’m okay. Just… just one of my attacks. They will be gone tomorrow.” He smiled down at the boy, who was clutching at his jacket, and gave him another pat on his soft hair. “Don’t worry, Petey.”

The child weakly returned his smile and was about to say something, when:

“Peter!”

An elderly couple rushed to them and the old lady who had talked kneeled down to hug the boy, who exclaimed happily: “Aunt May!” He was so relieved that started crying into her neck.

“Oh, sweetie, we were so worried!” the woman says holding him close for a moment and then gently pushing him away to look at him and touch his face. “Are you okay?”

His husband - a tall, hardy man that Wade assumed was Uncle Ben - approached the merc and eyed him politely.

“Did you help him?” he asked and Wade nodded, feeling like a bother in the middle of that sweet family scene.

“Yeah, the kid was waiting for you in a bar, but it was already so late and…”

“We have looked for him everywhere!” Ben sighed relieved. “We were going to call the police.”

He smiled and extended a hand.

“I’m Ben Parker. Thank you so much, we could never repay you enough!”

Wade awkwardly shook the hand and tried to dismiss the gentle words with a wave of his arm, knowing the other man was expecting his name, but choosing not to say it. He just wanted to leave and go home, he didn’t need to be there now that Peter was safe.

“It… it was nothing. I’m glad you are reunited now.” Aunt May got up and grabbed his arm, looking at him through a veil of tears.

“Is there something we can do for you? Please, tell us, anything you want.”

“Really, miss.” Wade stepped back, shaking his head and smiling with a hint of embarrassment. “It’s okay, no need to thank me so much.” He felt a small hand on his own and looked down. Peter was looking up at him with a smile.

“Tell them! Tell them you are a hero!”

“Oh… umh…”

“He’s a hero indeed!” Uncle Ben exclaimed. “Son, I’m serious. Let me and my wife offer you dinner. It’s the least we can do.”

“Yes, yes, please!” Peter started jumping on the spot, pulling Wade’s hand and pleading him with his eyes. His glasses were going to bounce off his nose in a moment, the merc could already see it. “Wade, please, accept!”

The blond man cleared his throat, suddenly blushing and feeling anxious. He wasn’t used to having so much positive attention, so many positive _people_ around him asking for his company. Aunt May looked like a sweet woman, the grandma he never had; Uncle Ben was the father his own had never been.

And Peter was a cute, gentle angel that loved spiders, science and was currently tugging at his jacket, asking him to come with them with a big smile.

The headache got worse in a millisecond and Wade shook his head again.

“Thanks… thanks, but no. I’m actually busy tonight.” He could _feel_ Peter’s disappointment and sadness in the air, not only see it in his eyes, so he kneeled down and ruffled his hair.

“You don’t have to eat everything.” the boy mumbled. “You can just eat the dessert and go. I would do that.”

Wade laughed and pinched his cheek, then used his thumb to lift his chin up.

“Now, now, don’t cry. Real scientists don’t cry.”

Peter sniffled and Wade laughed softly again, hugging him gently.

“It was great knowing you, doctor Peter.” he said. “I’ll look forward to read about you on the newspaper.”

“Same.” Peter replied, his voice muffled by the merc’s clothes. “I want to see you on TV. And I’ll tell everyone in school I met a hero!”

Wade patted his back and pulled away, trying to ignore the weight in his heart and the fact that the money he used to pay for the child’s hot dog came from a killing job.

“Are you sure you can’t accept?” Ben asked shaking his hand again and Wade reassured him and his wife; yes, he was sure, their words were enough, he was just happy to have helped the boy.

“Bye, mister Wade!” Peter shouted as the merc walked away; the man looked back and waved his hand, then the crowd took him away and he disappeared.

“He looked like a good man.” Uncle Ben said with a smile. “You were lucky he was the one who found you, Peter.”

“I’m sad he didn’t come with us.” the child said in a low voice as the uncle picked him up.

“Oh, dear.” Aunt May cooed adjusting his jacket. “Didn’t you see how pale he was? Maybe that’s why he didn’t accept, he was surely feeling bad or something.” She shot her husband a mild glare. “Ben, you shouldn’t have insisted so much. You embarrassed him. It was clear he wanted to go home and rest, poor soul!”

Her husband scratched his neck, looking sheepish and mumbling an apology.

“He’s going to be better tomorrow!” Peter stepped in, surprising them both. He lowered his voice and the two adults had to lean in to hear him clearly. “He is a superhero, but he’s ill. So he’s going to visit some cool doctors tomorrow and they will help him! They will give him full powers and his illness will go away!”

Aunt and uncle shared a confused look and they were startled by Peter’s sudden and desperate outburst: “I forgot the autograph!”  
  


\- - -  
  


Peter met Wade one year later, but he didn’t recognize him.

He didn’t get lost this time, but he needed help the same, because he found himself in the middle of a super battle, together with other civilians of Queens.

Aunt May had asked him to go buy groceries - the supermarket wasn’t that far and he was clever enough not to get in trouble. Well, he _got_ in trouble, but it wasn’t his fault and he just could wait under the rubble for someone to help him.

Fortunately his legs or torso hadn’t been hit badly, he was just stuck in a narrow space and, despite his scrawny and small body, he couldn’t crawl out. Plus the battle before him was actually _cool_ and his young mind marveled at the sheer beauty of colours, sounds and attacks on the street.

There were two super people he had never seen before, an enormous man with scary muscles and another one, smaller but equally strong, dressed in red and black spandex. His voice was deep and rough, but he sounded like a funny person, because he joked, used cool and witty phrases and mocked the other guy, who seemed pretty bad, while moving expertly on the battlefield and using two beautiful swords.

Peter rooted for him and hoped for his victory, wondering absentmindedly why that voice sounded so familiar; when the bigger, scary man fell on the ground, cursing and swearing, the child clapped from his spot and waited for the hero to tie up the baddy and leave him to the police or other heroes.

But then something strange happened.

“P-Please…!” the bad guy with big muscles shouted. He couldn’t get up, there was blood beneath and on him and he was shaking. It was the first time Peter heard a villain say something like that. They usually cursed at the hero, he saw that on TV every day, and when it happened his aunt always covered his ears.

But this time there was no wickedness in that voice, there were no offensive words. Just pleading.

“Please, I will… I will give you the double! Whatever he’s giving you, I’ll give you more, much more!”

“Sorry, dude.” the hero shrugged putting away his strange swords and taking something from one of the holsters Peter just noticed. “The guy who hired me would be very mad if I let you go.”

“He won’t know! I will disappear, I swear!” the wounded guy started weeping and Peter felt something break inside him. He had never heard so much despair in a voice before.

“P-Please… Deadpool, that’s your name, right? Please, I’ll give you everything you want!”

“I have a reputation to maintain.” the red and black-clad man replied with a funny voice. Then it became serious, dark, menacing. “Sorry. The only thing I want from you is your death.”

The weeping stopped, interrupted by a loud bang and the screaming of the few people who were still around the scene. Peter was shaking, eyes fixated on the steaming barrel of the gun and the hole in the dead’s man head.

The other man put away his weapon and walked away… towards the rubble Peter was trapped under. The child tried to become even smaller than he already was, but he knew he had been seen when the strange mask moved in surprise.

“Shit…!”

The rubble was lifted without problems and Peter felt two strong hands picking him up from the armpits and putting him on the ground safely.

“Are you hurt, kid?”

He looked up and the mask was right in front of his face, some blood splattered on it. He couldn’t see the eyes beneath it, but he knew that man was looking at him and checking his body for wounds.

“You can stand, so I’m gonna assume you don’t have any broken bones or organs. Do you feel like puking? You can do it on the ground, no one is gonna complain, don’t worry. Let me see your head…”

“D-Don’t touch me!” Peter cried, pulling away. Tears streamed down his face, hot and big, and the man tensed.

“Hey, no, no, don’t freak out! I’m not gonna hurt you, I just want to…”

“Do you… do you want to kill me? Like you did with that person?” Peter shakily pointed at the corpse not far away and the red and black mask looked almost sad.

“No.” the man softly replied, the quietest Peter had heard him until now. “I don’t… I don’t kill children. Now come here, let me see if you have wounds.” He reached out for Peter again, but the kid just stepped back, shaking his head.

“Hey, I saved you! Who knows when police will arrive in this shitty neighborhood! You would have stayed under those rocks for hours!” The man snarled and rubbed his eyes beneath the dirty fabric. “Listen, that guy… that guy was a criminal, okay? Do you know what a criminal is?”

Peter nodded and the man continued, a creepy laughter building in his throat: “He was scum! Pure, utter shit! He deserved to die and I’m actually glad I was paid to do that! This was a job I really enjoyed, believe me.” He sighed and came near the boy again, who was too scared to move a muscle again. “So don’t feel bad for him, okay? I’m sorry you had to see _that_ , but…”

“Y-You… are not a hero, are you?”

The adult hold his breath, Peter could see it; as if he had been slapped or hit in the face by a punch. Peter knew the feel, it happened a lot to him at school.

“… No, I’m not.” the man eventually answered and gone was the mirth in his voice, gone the cool attitude. There was just… resignation. Resignation, despair and pain, just like the other guy before he died.

“Even… even if that man deserved it… you shouldn’t have killed him.” Peter continued with sobs and hiccups. “Uncle Ben always says we must forgive people who do wrong.”

The face under the mask frowned.

“Do I know you?” he murmured but then he seemed to change his mind and scoffed. “Your uncle is pretty naïve, kid. It’s not that easy, you can’t always forgive. Sometimes you have to _hurt_ those who hurt you.” The man sighed and took something from one of his many pockets around his waist and threw it at Peter.

It was a small box of Captain America bandaids.

“You can have it. I don’t really need it, but it’s nice to have something… normal like that once in a while.”

Peter didn’t understand what he meant by that, but he took the box the same, because he had some pretty bad bruises on the back of his legs and neck.

Man and child looked at each other for a long time; the latter was scared, the loud ‘bang’ still resonating in his mind, the first one was lost in deep thought, sadness and confusion written all over his mask.

Then they heard the sirens and people started coming back again, probably reassured by the presence of the police.

The man in spandex hesitated for a moment, then asked with a small, mirthless laugh: “I guess you don’t want my autograph, huh?”

Peter shook his head, sniffing.

“N-Not yours.”

The other nodded, as if he had known the answer since from the start, and walked away, not looking back, the swords and the blood on them shining brightly under the sunrays.

Peter kept looking at the man who wasn’t a hero until the police arrived and he wondered again why he felt so nostalgic.


	2. Mister Hero

Wade met Peter one year later and he recognized him.

His last job had gone well and he was now relaxing in a park, eating a bag of tacos, wearing a jacket with a high collar and a hat to hide his face. He still looked pretty weird, though, and his features could be seen under the bright daylight. People avoided the bench he was sitting on, scared by the sight of gruesome scars and his lips moving fast even if there was nobody he could talk to.

After the Weapon X program, he was used to talking alone. It was one of the ‘gifts’ the treatment had given him, together with a disfigured face, terrible self-issues and many mental problems. Everything - _everything_ \- had gone wrong and he had lost any trace of humanity, any hope to become someone better. He was _something_ now, just a gun for hire. His value consisted only of the amount of bullets he could put into the target, nothing else.

Oh, how cynical he had become in just two years! Cynical and hopeless, bitter and hollow. He masked his face with a cloth and his pain with crude jokes, but when he wasn’t fighting, when he was in places like this park, all the sad thoughts he had repressed came back with full force.

"What didn’t I use? There must be something I didn’t try yet." he mused finishing another taco. "I tried guns, rope, acid, knives, poison… what else remains?"

 _Drowning?_ A voice inside his head told him. That was kind of new. Lately voices that were his, but at the same time weren’t, had started talking to him, answering his questions, giving him advices, even if those were often wrong and dangerous. In the middle of the night they whispered ugly and bad things, making his already painful sleep worse; his skin burned every second, he had to constantly focus his attention on something or else he would have tear it with his nails to stop the horrible pain and itch. The voices telling him cruel things didn’t help his delicate mental situation.

_There is a pond over there. I don’t know if it’s deep enough, but if it is, you could easily tie yourself to the bottom and…_

"Hah!" Wade giggled. "You said ‘bottom’!"

He stood up, leaving the taco bag on the bench while pigeons came closer to eat the crumbs on the ground.

Yeah, he had seen the pond. It wasn’t very big, but was relatively far from the main area of the park, where most people were, so there was no risk of scaring kids and their frail grandmothers.

He walked on the path leading to the clearing with a heavy heart; this wouldn’t work, he was sure of it, nothing could kill him as long as there was that wretched healing factor working inside him non-stop. Still, he had nothing better to do and reaching that so craved peace even for few minutes was worth the trouble.

"What the…?"

There was a group of people near the pond now; they were middle schoolers, but there was something off about them, something wicked, dark, and cruel. A blond boy in particular looked bad; the sneer on his face wasn’t reassuring and his laughter was too high-pitched to be considered good.

He and his friends were kicking something on the ground, Wade couldn’t see it well. Maybe a dog or a pigeon? He didn’t like torturing animals, they had always been the only ones to treat him with some love and respect in his life. Especially now that he was so disgusting, they ignored his look and never refused to lick his hand, a caress or a pat on the head.

One of the boys moved and Wade could see what they were really hitting; another kid, skinny and small, curled up to protect his sides and face. He was crying and begging, but the other guys just laughed harder and the blond pressed a foot on his hand, making him cry out in pain.

"Don’t be such a wimp, Parker!" he snickered. "Be a man and fight! Or are you too much of a pussy to do it?"

"L-Let me go!" the kid sobbed; a kick on the face made him spit blood on the grass and the big eyeglasses he was wearing fell from his nose.

"Wow, they aren’t broken yet!" the bully exclaimed with a fake gasp. "Oh, we _absolutely_ gotta do something, isn’t that right, guys?” His friends cheered and held the beaten kid as he tried to get up to stop their boss.

"No, please! Uncle Ben paid for those! Please, Flash, don’t!"

"Shut up, nerd!" the bully kicked his groin and he fell down again with a whimper. "I’m sure those old hags will buy you other ten of these!"

The eyeglasses were dropped on the ground, ready to be smashed with a foot, but Wade had seen enough. He didn’t like bullies and he could actually do something against them, unlike that poor, shaky boy.

"Hey, little shit!"

The group immediately froze on the spot. Wade’s voice was booming, rough, deep, and when they saw him approach, with his horrible scarred face badly hidden by the hat and jacket, they paled.

"Try breaking those eyeglasses and I’m gonna break your fucking nose and _dick_.” Wade grinned wickedly. “Then we will see who the true pussy is.”

The blond bully babbled something while his friends quickly panicked and ran away, forgetting him there. Wade grabbed the little asshole’s shirt and pulled him closer to let him look better at his face; the boy almost turned green and made a gagging sound.

"Disgusting, huh? Well, you aren’t that great either." Wade growled, lifting him from the ground. "You are just a little piece of shit who likes punching guys smaller and weaker than you."

"L-Let me go!"

"Don’t be such a wimp!" Wade mocked him, repeating with a high-pitched voice the same words he had told his victim. "Be a man!" He turned serious again. "Really fucking disgusting."

He glanced at the beaten boy, who was looking at them with surprise and horror mixed together. The scene looked terribly familiar, but Wade’s mind was foggy, he had problems remembering things since the Weapon X program… he stared at the poor kid and at his brown, teary, big eyes for a little more, then sighed.

"You are lucky you are a brat, otherwise your bones would be scattered all around." he said turning back to the bully, letting him go. He hastily got up, pants wet, and fled, never looking back, whining like a pig.

Wade slowly walked over to the beaten kid; he was crying silently, too surprised by what happened to wipe the tears still streaming down his red, purple, and puffy face. There were some bad bruises above his brows and upper lip, but nothing seemed broken. He looked at Wade with gratefulness, but also fear, so much fear.

"How are you, sweetie?" Wade tried a smile, but his scars weren’t a good sight for a kid, they weren’t for _anybody_ , so he adjusted the collar of the jacket and the hat before repeating: “How do you feel?”

"M-My… my head hurts." the kid sniffed. "My ribs too."

Wade kneeled next to him, humming. He had to touch the boy to see if something was really broken, but he didn’t want to freak him out nor make him uncomfortable. So, he first changed briefly the topic, picking up the eyeglasses still resting on the grass.

Those were familiar too, they reminded him of something happened time ago… but what was it?

"Here." he said handing them to the boy, whose face lit up with relief. "They are not broken, see?"

"Thank you!" the child hesitated for a millisecond before taking them from the scarred hands; he was obviously intrigued by the deep lines and scabs, but said nothing, gently placing the too big frame on his small nose.

"Aren’t they too big?" Wade snorted. And then he remembered; he had met this child the previous year, during one of his jobs. He had killed the target in front of his eyes and…

_Wait, wait, I think we met him even before that!_

He couldn’t still recognize the different voices, but this one sounded like the clever one, the one who said the witty jokes, but also the cruelest things at night.

He frowned. Yeah, he had the slight impression that he had met this child in other circumstances similar to the current situation… Yes, two years ago! Even before Weapon X, when he was still a normal human being, ill and weak, but with a normal face and…

 _'Yes, the kid lost in the streets…!'_ he thought. _'Peter! Peter, right?'_

"Mister?"

"H-Huh?"

The kid was looking at him with worry and discomfort, probably scared by his unfocused stare.

"Oh! Sorry ‘bout that, sweetie." Wade smiled again, hoping to look like a reliable adult, just a little. "Can you stand up?"

"Y-Yeah… I think…"

Wade got up and offered the kid a hand to help him; it had been an automatic gesture, but he realized the little one probably didn’t want to touch him, so he pulled it away and cleared his throat.

The kid wobbly stood on his legs and hissed in pain; he touched his ribs and legs, but, apart from the bruises, nothing else hurt.

"Thank you, sir!" he told Wade with a shy smile. "I’m so glad the eyeglasses aren’t broken!"

"You should worry about yourself." the merc scoffed, looking at blood on the grass. "Do you know those assholes?"

"Y-Yes." the kid looked somber and discouraged now. "They are from my school."

"Hm." Wade frowned, knowing already what this meant. "And I bet they pick on you a lot every day, huh?"

The boy nodded and sniffed. “They broke my eyeglasses last week.” His eyes were filled with tears again. “Uncle Ben and Aunt May had to buy them again and they are so expensive, I didn’t want to see these broken too, but…” he was openly sobbing now. “B-But I’m not strong, mister! I’m skinny and I don’t know how to throw punches and Aunt May always says you must never hit people, b-but…”

"No, no, don’t cry!" Wade kneeled to look at him in the eye and patted awkwardly his shaking shoulder. "There, there. No need to cry, Petey."

The kid gasped and gawked at him.

"How do you know my name?"

_Good job, dumbass._

"Well, umh…" Wade shrugged with a lopsided smile. "I… I am a superhero! I can read minds!"

He remembered the lies he had told the child two years before, when he had said he was a hero who was waiting for his powers to be refined. Oh, they sounded so stupid and naive now! So fucking _ironic_.

He had a power now - an epic healing factor that didn’t let him die -, but he was no hero, he never was. First he had been a stupid mercenary, now he was a _crazy_ mercenary, one with cancer munching away his sanity and skin in an endless loop. Surely a great improvement.

Peter’s eyes became larger behind the lenses.

"Really?!" he whispered in awe. "That’s so cool!" He bounced happily on the balls of his feet and he didn’t look scared and sad anymore. "That’s why you have so many scars, mister?"

"Heh… yes, unfortunately a mission didn’t go so well, but…" Wade winked. "That didn’t stop me. I’m always ready to help cool kids like you when it’s necessary."

He was _basking_ in the glory of Peter’s awe, admiration and respect. It felt so great, it felt so _human_ , and he wished this could never end.

"I met another hero before, you know?"

Those words hurt, because Wade knew he was referring to his old self, the Wade Wilson who had hope in the future, when bitterness and complete hatred for the world hadn’t invaded his heart yet. He let Peter continue with a sad smile.

"His name was Wade! He was a tall man, as tall as you! And he said he could change people’s minds, not read them like you do!" the child turned pensive all of a sudden. "He was ill. I wonder if he feels better now." He looked at Wade with worry. "I haven’t seen him on TV or read about him, but that doesn’t mean he… he didn’t make it, right, sir?"

Wade bit his lips, not daring to look at the child. That wasn’t the time to cry on his shitty life, he had to be strong, like he had been for all these two long years.

"Right, sweetie. I’m sure he’s feeling good now. Maybe he’s a special agent and need to be undercover all the time."

"I thought that too! That must be why!" Peter was cheerful and happy again. "Are you an undercover agent too, mister?"

"Yes." Wade chuckled, getting up. "And… And I can’t reveal you my name, so you better not ask it." And he winked.

"Aww!" Peter pouted, but his smile came back immediately. "Can you at least tell me your superhero name? Please!"

But Wade remembered their second meeting, the one where Peter had seen _Deadpool_ kill that man. He couldn’t reveal that name either, the boy probably remembered that terrible day too.

"I’m sorry, cupcake." he answered pinching gently a soft cheek. "My superiors would kill me. And I know you are a good boy, I… I can read it in your mind, but…" He patted his head. "Can’t risk that. Sorry."

"Okay." Peter nodded and the eyeglasses almost fell from his nose again. He was extremely serious and solemn now. "I know that a superhero identity is important, so I’m not going to insist." He smiled brightly. "I’ll call you Mister Hero then!"

Wade chuckled some more, trying to ignore the sting in his heart, and took a clean handkerchief out of his pocket.

"We need to wash your face, Petey. You don’t want to scare your Aunt, do you?"

He dipped the cloth into the crystalline water of the pond and kneeled once again to brush it over the bloody bruises on the child’s face. Peter kept talking about superheroes, powers, the camera his Uncle had bought him and with which he hoped to take good photos of those special people he admired so much.

"And spiders." Wade blurted out before he could stop himself.

"Yes!" Peter’s eyes were practically _shining_ now. “Wow, you really can read minds! You know I love spiders!”

 _'Don't say that he told you two years ago. Don't say that, Wade…'_ the merc thought while nodding with a smug smile.

When the boy’s face was relatively clean, Wade helped him pick up his backpack, that had been discarded under a tree when the group had attacked him, and walked into the main path leading to the exit.

"Mister Hero, please, can you take me home?" Peter clasped his hands together in front of his face, bouncing. "Please, please, please! Aunt May would be so happy to meet another hero!"

"Well…"

The bullies weren’t probably around anymore, considered the scare Wade had given them, but Peter was bruised all over his face, his clothes were dirty, and people looked at the weird duo with worry. Wade didn’t look exactly like a reassuring man, not with the jacket and hat hiding his face and his gross hands.

However Peter’s big eyes and smile were too much for him - fuck his soft heart! -, so he gave up and accepted with a fond sigh.

"Fine, you little web-head!"

Peter giggled at the nickname and they exited the park, walking into the streets hand in hand. He wasn’t disgusted by the contact, on the contrary he asked if the scars still hurt and if he needed a cream because “my Aunt uses it for her hands when they are chapped! She could give it to you!”

"Don’t worry, Petey. I… I already have my own."

"Of course! I’m sorry!" Peter blushed shyly. "I’m sure the other superheroes helped you with their technology and powers!"

The merc was grateful for the hat, because it covered his sad eyes well.

"… Yeah."

They arrived in Peter’s neighborhood after few minutes, which they had spent talking and joking about everything that had come to their mind, especially to Peter’s, so curious and excited.

The child used his key to enter the old apartment building in which he lived with his Uncle and Aunt. The place was clean and well maintained, but it was clear it wasn’t that wealthy or safe. It actually reminded Wade of his own childhood, now made even hazier by his hatred for it mixed with the cancer.

"Aunt May!" Peter called opening the door of his apartment. "I’m home!"

"Peter!" an old woman called from another room. "Honey, why are you so late?"

Wade had heard that voice for few minutes, two years before, but he remembered it like it was yesterday, the voice of a gentle old lady who thanked him with tears in her eyes because he had found her nephew.

"Peter… Oh my God!"

Said old woman had stepped into the hallway and promptly paled seeing the boy’s conditions.

"What happened, dear?! Oh, look at these bruises!" She touched his face with gentleness and carefulness, worried and anxious, but Peter smiled and pointed at Wade, still standing under the doorframe.

"That nice man saved me!" He looked back at his aunt while running back to Wade and taking his hand. "He’s a hero, Aunt! Just like mister Wade from two years ago!"

Aunt May stared at the scars for few seconds; she didn’t look disgusted, just extremely surprised by her nephew’s words. Then her lips curled into a bright, grateful smile and she walked over to Wade, who gulped nervously.

"Oh, dear!" she exclaimed taking his other hand. The merc flinched, not used to that kind of contact anymore. "Thank you, thank you so much! Peter has been lucky to have found such a good man! Please, come in!"

"N-No, miss May, don’t worry, I just wanted to accompany your nephew."

 _'This nice lady sure is different from Blind Al…'_ he thought with a small smile while Aunt May’s smile turned into a sad expression again.

"You really can’t stay?" and Peter intervened, terribly disappointed: "Please, Mister Hero, only for a coffee!"

"Really, I can’t. I… I have many things to do. Missions." Wade ruffled his hair with a fond and melancholic smile. "Don’t make that face, Petey."

"You are not the first hero we met, you know?" Aunt May laughed softly. "Two years ago another kind young man saved him."

"He told me, yes." Wade laughed too, this time pinching the child’s cheek. "Aren’t you a lucky lad?"

"He had a bad experience one year ago though." Aunt May continued with a sad frown and Wade’s heart almost stopped. "There was an incident with a… a masked man. He killed someone in the streets and Peter was there. He saw everything." Her frown became thoughtful. "I can’t remember how that man was called… it was… Pool? Pool something…"

"Deadpool." Peter murmured, eyes casted down, his hand still into Wade’s. The merc squeezed it gently, breathing heavily, the memory of that day now fresh in his mind, terribly painful, regret burning in his chest like a fire.

"There… there are some bad people, yes." he answered, hoping his voice didn’t sound too croaky and panicked. He cleared his throat and continued: "Sometimes though… it’s not their fault. I mean, _yes_ , it’s their fault, but… at the same time it isn’t.”

"Oh, I know, dear." Aunt May smiled sadly. "Life can be cruel and when people suffer they can become… less good."

Wade looked at her, mouth dry, eyes wet, his hand wrapped around Peter’s was shaking.

"… Yes. It’s true."

He sniffed and looked down at the child, grinning again.

"Let’s stop talking about this sad stuff, huh?" He kneeled and patted the small hand. "Be a good boy, Petey. And be careful."

Peter smiled back at him and then he lit up, taking the backpack from his shoulder to open the zip and rummage into it.

He took out a pen and a piece of white paper.

"I know you can’t use your true names, but please! Can you give me your autograph? Even an ‘x’ would be perfect!"

Wade chuckled and thought deeply for long seconds, then wrote: _"To Peter. Take a lot of pictures of spiders, but don’t scare your poor Aunt and Uncle! Stay awesome - Mister Hero xxxo"_

Peter giggled at the signature and Aunt May hid her own laughter behind a hand.

"Thank you!" the boy hugged him tight, just like he had done two years before, and Wade returned the hug awkwardly, praying the tears to not fall. He almost choked down a sob when the kid pressed his lips on his cheek, ignoring completely the scars. It was the first time in a long, _terribly_ long, time that someone showed him any kind of affection. Wade had to get up quickly not to cry and show his emotions.

"W-Well…" he babbled. "I… I think it’s time for me to go." He shook Aunt May’s hand and she wasn’t repelled either.

"Thank you so much!" she said with a kind, sincere smile. "Please, come back any time if you want that cup of coffee!"

"Y-Yes… Yes, I will."

"Bye, Mister Hero!" Peter waved at him from the door. Despite the yellow and purple bruises on his face and the too big eyeglasses, he was the perfect image of joy and gratefulness and Wade waved back with a shaky grin, finally letting the tears stream down now that they couldn’t be seen.

And for once, just for once, he really felt like a hero.


	3. Monsters

  
He did not set foot in New York for years. He accepted jobs in every part of the world, always moving, never settling down, never stopping, but he never went back to New York.

Peter thought he was a hero, a scarred agent that worked undercover with other special, magic people. He was sure to have met another great superhero - Wade Wilson - and that his whole childhood had been very lucky, filled by amazing encounters.

But Peter knew Deadpool, too, and considered him a monster. That was right. That was _accurate_. It was the only correct thing in that terrible mess created by naive lies and stupid masks. Deadpool was a monster, but he was also Wade Wilson _and_ Mister Hero, the scarred man.

Those three people that Peter had met during those short years were the same person and Wade’s guilt was unbearable. He couldn’t face the child again and tell him the truth, tell him that Wade Wilson didn’t manage to become a fully superhero, that he had _never_ been one, and had become that disgusting ‘pizza face’ instead; nor he could reveal that he was also Deadpool, because that would be too painful, too destructive for Peter’s and his own heart.

He tried to forget about the child and his kind aunt; cancer and his confused, crazy mind distracted him enough, together with the voices, which became stronger, louder, funnier, but also wicked and ironic. When he was alone, rotting in a corner of a filthy apartment, they kept him company and he spent his time talking with them out loud or planning their next mission. Sometimes they cruelly reminded him of Peter, but he knew how to treat them now and the topic changed almost immediately.

He had so many issues, there were so many difficulties on his already difficult path, that he could think about the boy only in the quietness of night or when he relaxed at bars and pubs after a particular hard day. Sometimes, his mind went back to those nice memories. Maybe he should have accepted the coffee… stayed with the boy a little more to fill his imagination with more images of superheroes, powers, cool places…

_More lies._

Guilt and regret always came back with the memories, so he forced everything back and kept going on, stumbling, hissing in pain and leaving blood behind, but he went on.  
  
  
  
\- - -  
  
  
  
Then he felt ready. Some years had passed, maybe Peter didn’t even live in New York anymore, and this job was too well paid to refuse it.

And the city was so big! There weren’t many chances he would meet Peter again, it was… it was _absurd!_

He rented another shitty apartment - extremely far from Queens - and proceeded to prepare for the missions, trying to do it without going out too much. He read all the info about his target - a shady man who controlled a small drug trade in the city -, bought all the necessary weapons and ammos (and something more, because he loved shiny guns and knives) and studied a map to find the perfect place to start from.

The night after his arrival in New York, he was ready to kill the man. The drug dealer was leaving a restaurant where he had just met his clients and Wade was waiting for him on a rooftop, rifle ready in hand. The voices complained that it wasn’t cool enough, that they wanted more chaos and blood and shooting - _bullets are cool, man! What did you buy all those guns for?? -_ , but Wade ignored them. He didn’t want to harm anybody else but his target tonight, _no_ , not even his bodyguards. He wanted to leave the city as soon as possible and not make too much havoc in it.

_It’s because of Peter, isn’t it?_

"No." Wade growled under his breath. "I just want to keep things clean this time, okay?"

He adjusted the rifle and aimed at the drug dealer’s head… just a little more to the left… more… _perfect!_

But before he could press his finger on the trigger, a kick on the head made him fall flat on the ground, curse in pain and shoot in the air.

"What the-??"

"Fuck, it’s an assassin!"

"Boss! Into the car, quickly!"

Wade scrambled to grab the rifle and shoot at the car, but it was already far… and someone’s foot was currently pressed on the weapon, preventing him to use it, so there wasn’t really anything he could do.

He looked up with a scowl, ready to snap, but his furious expression fell when he saw who it was.

A young man dressed in spandex, just like him; in fact the costume looked kinda similar to his… but that one had a weird web-pattern and blue parts and the mask…

"Whoa, dude!" Wade hastily got up, staring at the white lenses surrounded by black patches. "You copied my style!"

The young man frowned behind the mask.

"I did not!"

And Wade barked out a laugh, because that voice was too funny, so young and childish!

"Jesus, how old are you, boy? You are tall and you have your fair share of muscles, I admit that…" the merc eyed him for a long time before changing his expression into something almost embarrassed. "… but you are a fucking kid!"

"I’m not!" the young boy retorted clenching his fist. His voice sounded angrier now, but it was still very juvenile. "I’m… I’m 16, okay?"

"What did I say? You _are_ a kid.” Wade looked down at the boy’s foot and at the rifle still under it. “This is why I’m not gonna kill you for making my target escape. But…” he tutted, coming near the boy, who flinched a bit.

Wade lowered dangerously his tone and whispered: “Meddle in my business again and I will have to hurt you really bad, honey. Understood?” He patted the boy’s cheek, but he seized his wrist, surprising him.

"You are Deadpool." the boy growled. "The mercenary."

"The Merc with a Mouth, if you don’t mind. Nicknames are important!" He looked at the boy and at his costume, pretending to ignore the striking similarities to his own. "Wait, I’ve heard about you! I heard there was a new superhero in New York, one that swings from building to building like at the circus."

The lad opened his mouth to protest, but Wade cut him off: “Webs, a spider symbol on your chest, that creepy mask… Web-Man? Bug-Man?”

"Spider-Man." the boy growled. "Use that crazy brain of yours."

"How original!" Wade giggled, the rage about the lost target gone. Talking with this guy was so much better and it was always fun to know new superheroes and how they had become who they had become in the first place.

"So, _Spidey_ … I’m flattered that you used my costume as an inspiration, but I fear people may start to mistake me for you and we don’t really want that, do we?” He wrapped an arm around the superhero’s lithe shoulders - damn, he wasn’t in bad shape at all - and his grin grew.

"Why don’t you change into something less… Deadpool-ish?"

"I _did not_ steal your idea!” Spidey insisted, pushing him away. “I don’t see any spider or web pattern on your edgy costume! And people won’t mistake me for you, don’t worry.” He glared at him and then kicked the rifle off the rooftop; Wade let out a low whine, watching the weapon fall into its demise.

"I don’t kill people." Spidey continued. "I _save_ them. I am a hero.”

Wade’s scowl came back. He didn’t like that word, he never did.

"How cute." he coldly replied. "Now they let children protect the city? Did standards really fall so low?"

"I’m not a child!" Spidey shouted and for a moment his voice cracked. "And I’m doing something good with my powers instead of killing people for hire!"

"Bad people." Wade snarled back. "They are bad people and they deserve every single spark of pain I send into their rotten bones!"

He had said these words before, he had explained this to another child, a younger child, so many years ago… that regretful memory came and went, his mind now used to ignore it as soon as it returned to haunt him.

"It doesn’t matter." Spidey insisted and this sounded familiar too. "It’s wrong to kill people, no matter how bad they are."

"Pfft! Don’t bore me with your ‘good boy’ morality!" Wade rolled his eyes so much that he almost saw his brain. "Do you want something, apart from interrupting my important missions and rustling my scarred jimmies? Oh…!" He folded his arms and returned the boy’s glare: "By the way, do you know who that guy was? A drug dealer. A fucking piece of shit that controls this part of the city. And only God and Galactus know where the hell he is hiding now."

"I’ll find him. And bring him to the police." the young hero replied with sheer calmness. "This city has no secrets for me."

"It’s because you swing everywhere, right? Using your webs." Wade giggled again, but the sound was different from before. "Do you swing both ways too, sweetums?"

Even with the mask, it was clear that the boy had been affected by his words. He spluttered and stepped back and the mercenary laughed at his sudden embarrassment and shyness.

"Don’t worry, honey!" he snorted pretending to wipe a non-existent tear off his eye with a finger. "Unlike this city that obviously asks you too much, I have standards. I don’t annoy or kill children."

"I know." Spidey’s voice was unnaturally tired and sad now. "At least you possess a trace of moral code." 

Wade didn’t like where this was going, so he hurried to end the conversation: “Well… It was nice talking with you, kid.” He adjusted his belts, checked his pockets, grimaced at the rifle forever gone and then grinned at the boy. “I hope to see you again, but from far away, to admire your beautiful butt and avoid your boring speeches.”

"Wait, wait, wait!" the young superhero grabbed his wrist before he could make a move. "I’m not done with you yet!"

"Wanna fight me, Spidey? Wanna do it here? At least buy me a drink first!"

"I don’t want you in my city. _Never again._ " the boy tightened the hold around Wade’s hand and the merc realized how strong and painful it was. Super-strength, perhaps…?

"I want you out of here at dawn. No killings, no victims, no blood." The hero lowered his tone, fingers digging into the spandex up to the cancerous skin, masked face few inches from Wade’s. "Did I make myself clear?"

"Even if you have powers, you aren’t a grown up, sweetie." Wade grinned maniacally. "If I have business here, then I’ll _stay_ here and you can’t do a goddamn thing to stop me.”

"You…!" Spider-Man punched his stomach, making him double over, and pinned him against the hard and cold floor of the rooftop.

“ _Ghh-_ Very kinky, Spidey.” Wade half-laughed, but he was cut off again by the boy, who punched his face and hissed: “You are coming with me to the police. They will deal with you and if you ever come back, if I ever see you here again, I’m going to hit you so hard that you won’t even remember your own name!”

"Shit." Wade laughed weakly, tasting blood in his mouth but unable to spit it out because of the mask. "That would be awesome."

Spidey seemed surprised for a moment, then mumbled something and moved the merc to tie his hands together.

"Oh, so those are the famous webs! Is it your body that produces them?" Wade wiggled his hairless eyebrows under the red and black cloth. "Do you shoot them when you have an orgasm too?"

"Ugh, stop it!" Spidey smacked his head and lifted him from the ground as if it was nothing, holding him under an arm. "Maybe I should web your mouth too."

"Sorry, I can talk through farts. I got a degree in that difficult art, literally nothing can’t stop me from communicating now. Hey, why are on the edge of the rooftop now…?"

Spidey ignored him and jumped, immediately shooting a web on a near building and letting the white thread lead them both in the air like a liana.

"Stop moving!" he shouted at Wade, who was tremendously excited by the new experience.

"Holy shit, you do this every day?! It’s fucking awesome, better than a roller coaster! I want to use webs too!"

Spidey kept ignoring me though the whole trip to the prison and Wade used the occasion to better observe him. He was really a kid, with strong muscles and a lean, robust body, but a kid nonetheless. He wondered how he had gotten those powers, if he was happy about them, about this life.

_'I wonder how he looks like under that mask…'_

Surely his face couldn’t be worse than his, he mused grimly as they stepped outside a prison camp at the outskirt of Manhattan.

"Take good care of him. He’s an assassin!" Spidey told the guards, his chest swollen with pride; one of the men looked at him with a hint of commiseration.

"Everybody knows who he is, kid." he replied and Wade snickered seeing how the hero’s cool façade crumbled to dust. "This place doesn’t have the right accommodations for this kind of people, but we’ll do our best."

"Shouldn’t we arrest him too?" the other guard whispered. "The mayor says he’s a menace…"

"Nope. He didn’t do anything illegal in front of our eyes. And he has just brought us a dangerous criminal, so we can’t really do much."

The two men grabbed Wade by the shoulders and pushed him towards the door, not even bothering to thank the young superhero. Wade looked back to catch a last glimpse of him; he was still standing there, embarrassed and mortified, and the merc almost felt bad for him.  
  
  
  
\- - -  
  
  
  
Wade escaped from his cell two days later and, after dealing with his furious client, he went back to look for the drug dealer. His rage came back, together with annoyance and two different kinds of hope: he wanted to avoid Spider-Man at all costs, but also meet him again. He intrigued him and it was way too funny joking with him.

"But he will stop me again!" the merc whined one fine morning, while sipping coffee at the table of a nice café. "He’s cute when he’s angry, but I can’t really lose the target again. The pay has been already cut too much for my tastes."

Some customers gave him a weird look hearing him talk alone, but he paid them no mind, too busy discussing with the voices and simply not caring about other people’s opinion.

"And we can’t stay too longer here. I don’t want to." Wade continued, munching angrily a cookie. "I… I don’t have good memories about this place."

 _You don’t have good memories about_ any _place._

"Shut your trap." the merc scowled. "This city is worse, okay? And you know why, so stop talking shit and let’s focus on that drug dealer and forget about Spidey."

He had seen the boy on the newspaper and, despite his proud words, people actually feared him and his efforts were not very appreciated. The mayor, in particular, seemed to loathe him and offered a conspicuous reward to everyone who had proof that Spider-Man was involved in criminal activities.

"That kid is too naive to be a bad guy. And his butt too cool. Usually bad guys don’t have asses so beautiful."

The voices agreed with the merc and he sighed, turning a page to study a photo of the superhero using his webs to dance in the clear sky.

"Do you like it?"

"Huh?"

He looked up at where the new voice came from. There was a young man standing next to his table, grinning at him with adorable red cheeks and sparkling doe eyes. His brown hair were tousled and messy, there was a big camera hanging around his thin neck and his clothes were simple and disheveled. Wade couldn’t help but snort, however there was something strange about him, even the voices couldn’t say what exactly.

"Do I like what, kid?" he asked amusedly. The boy’s blush spread all over his face and he pointed at the newspaper and the picture of Spider-Man.

"Oh! Yes, I like it. Very great shot of that glorious butt." the merc giggled, then his attention went back to the boy. "Umh… can I do something for you?"

The lad grinned, so bright that the whole café seemed illuminated by a little sun, and he sat down at the table, not asking for permission, just staring at Wade’s face, badly hidden by the hood and the baseball cap. He also grabbed one of his hands and the merc jumped on his seat.

"Hey, what are-"

"Mister Hero!"

Wade froze, his heart started beating too fast, the voices screamed inside his head and the whole world stopped.

"It’s you, isn’t it? Do… do you recognize me?"

"I…" Wade moved back, but the boy leaned in, his smile bigger, his hand so soft and nice into the merc’s scarred one.

"I’m Peter! The boy you saved from those bullies at the park years ago!"

How could he forget? He thought about that child for all these years, trying not to visit New York because he couldn’t bear the weight of the lies he had told him… of course he remembered.

“Petey…!” Wade let out a shaky, weak laugh. “Jesus, Peter, you… you have grown so much!”

Peter’s grin was contagious and the merc found himself smiling happily too. Because despite his guilt, he had wished to meet the child again, longed for his presence. And he was here now, a young man with cheerful eyes and long, skinny legs.

“Where are your eyeglasses?”

“Oh! I… I don’t need them anymore.” the boy squeezed his scarred hand one last time and then let it go. “I’m so happy to see you again, Mister Hero!”

That nickname hurt, but Wade showed nothing and replied with sincerity: “Me too, Peter. How is your aunt? And your uncle?”

Peter’s face darkened, he looked away, at the table. Wade feared the worst and instinctively put a hand on his shoulder.

“He is dead.” Peter murmured. When he looked up again, there were tears in his eyes. “A… a criminal killed him, one year ago.”

“ _Fuck._ ”

Wade sighed through his nose, averting his eyes because he couldn’t stand the young man’s sad look. He remembered his uncle, he even remembered his name - Ben, right? - and his grateful tone when he had found a little Peter in the streets.

It didn’t help knowing that he wasn’t different from the guy that had killed the poor man.

“I’m… I am sorry, sweetiepie.” he told the boy, who had dry his eyes and was smiling - albeit sadly - at him again.

“Thank you. But don’t worry, my aunt and I… we are okay now.” It wasn’t exactly true, Wade could see that, but he didn’t interrupt. “It’s been rough at first, but we are together and that’s what counts.”

“Yes.” Wade smiled back at him. “It’s true.”

Peter clapped his hands, clearly wishing to change topic. “So! How are you? How are things going in the superhero world?”

“Huh… well…” the merc’s attention went back to the newspaper and the photo.

“They are going good, but look at this! Kids flying in the air with webs, clad in tight spandex?” Wade snorted. “Sometimes I think the world is crazier than me.”

“Spider-Man is helping this city.” Peter mumbled with a… was that a _pout_? “He is not a menace as the mayor says.” He looked at Wade clearly expecting a positive response, his eyes sparkling with anticipation. “And why does it matter that he’s young? He’s doing good! He’s helping and saving people’s lives!”

“Yeah, yeah.” Wade decided to make him happy. “He’s your new idol, I get it. Though I have to admit he _is_ pretty good…”

 _‘Maybe_ too _good_. _’_ he thought smirking inwardly.

“He’s not my idol!” Peter took his hand again and the merc tensed up automatically. The boy didn’t seem to notice because he continued, even leaning in with the huge smile he had before: “You are still my Mister Hero! I… I thought about you a lot and every time I’m in difficulty I try to imagine what you would do.” He blushed and laughed softly, diverting his eyes from Wade’s because embarrassment and shyness were becoming too much for him to handle.

“I know that sounds stupid, but you really helped me a lot, even if you weren’t here.”

Wade looked away too, but for a different reason. He didn’t deserve those words, he didn’t deserve that _respect_ , especially not _Peter’s_. He cleared his throat and the young man finally got the message, letting his hand go with a gasp and backing away.

“Sorry! That… that was lame.”

“No, it’s okay.” Wade smiled at him, hoping to appear convincing and not on the verge of tears and of a nervous breakdown. “I don’t get to hear that a lot. Thanks, kid.”

Peter looked relieved, joyous, but also a bit surprised.

“You… don’t get praised?” His eyebrows raised. “Is it because you are an undercover agent and you must do your job in secrecy?”

Wade snorted ironically, looking at the photo again.

“Yeah. People don’t know I am the one who helped them.” He’s glad the hood is on head and partially covering his face, because his eyes sure must look sad right now. “I am… very different from Spidey.”

Then he read the caption. It was minuscule and blended with the rest of the article, so he hadn’t  seen it before. But when he saw it, it caught him completely off guard.

_Photo by: Peter Parker_

“Damn, boy!” he laughed pointing at the name and Peter’s blush came back in full force. “So that camera around your neck isn’t just an accessory!”

“T-That’s why I asked you if you liked the picture.” the boy laughed too, a hand playing nervously with his hair and making it messier. “I work for The Daily Bugle. Well, I’m more like a freelance photographer, but for now I’m working fulltime there.”

Wade eyed him with sympathy and actually found the courage to pat his hand resting on the table.

“Underpaid?”

Peter’s whole face became red.

“It’s pretty obvious, huh?” His smile came back soon though. “For now it’s enough. Jameson isn’t a great guy, but when he gets what he wants, he pays what he promised and that is the important thing.”

They stayed at the café for a long hour and Wade couldn’t help but feel nostalgic. The little child he had saved in the streets and from the bullies had become a strong, reliable young man, still shy and awkward, yes, but his willpower was amazing.

He talked about his aunt and Wade could see how much he loved and cared for her; his salary was all they have to go on and he admitted they had sold various things - such as jewels and toys from his childhood - to help pay the rent.

In the end they went out and Wade found himself walking the boy home, just like he had done so many years before; this time it was different, Peter joked with him, his mind was sharp and his laughter contagious, his shy glances were no more those of a child, but of an adult, with a clear message behind them that Wade found hard to ignore.

They reached the same, old building he remembered well, walked into the same apartment he had barely seen from the doorframe, the same Aunt May he had met twice greeted them with a blinding smile and more wrinkles around her eyes and mouth. Her hair was whiter and her clothes simpler, too, but apart from the melancholy in her eyes, she was the same old lady that had been so nice to him.

Wade wasn’t used to normal things, so sitting at a table, drinking coffee with a nice old woman and her gorgeous, timid nephew confused his already buzzing mind. He did his best to appear somewhat at ease, he tried to reduce his quirks to a minimum and hide even further into his hoodie. Peter and his Aunt weren’t overwhelming, everything about them was quiet - God, how he longed for _quietness_! - and made him feel better, so he managed to put on a convincing show. Only his scars showed how much flawed he was, but they paid no mind to them.

Peter and his sweet, big brown eyes were particularly good at making him feel good. He was sitting next to him, long fingers playing with the cup, twitching when Wade’s big, scarred hand moved near while he was busy talking with him and Miss May. He asked many questions, each one pronounced with shyness and curiosity, his smile never faltered, his glances never stopped.

Wade had never felt so observed before, but it was a good kind of stare, an admired and _longing_ look, a request, almost a plea. He hadn’t felt something like this for the longest time and didn’t know how to react, how to answer. Should he smile back at him? Ignore his hand on the table, the foot that had brushed his slightly just now? He tried to focus on Miss May - fortunately she seemed completely clueless - and on her words, but it was difficult while feeling so… so respected.

That was the problem, again. Respect. And desire, if he was reading well those vibes Peter was emitting since they had started talking at the café.

 _‘I have to leave.’_ Wade thought panicky, mouth dry. _‘I have to complete that mission tonight and leave the city.’_

Peter was calling him; his body, his smile, his voice, his sweetness… it was a call he had to refuse, avoid at all cost. Not because he didn’t like it - quite the opposite in fact - but for Peter’s own good. He had lied to him, he was _still_ lying to him and his Aunt. He was an assassin, his soul was rotten as much as his skin. He had to save Peter from this.

 _‘From_ me _.’_

“Gosh, look at the time!” he sprang up, so fast he almost spilled the tea. “I really have to go now. You know, stuff and… heroic shit to do- oh sorry, Miss May. Thank you so much for everything by the way.”

“Will you come back?” Peter asked immediately, his eyes now sad and hopeful and more sad. He looked like a deer caught in the headlights of a car.

“You are always welcome here.” Aunt May shook his hand with a warm smile. “Visit us whenever you want!”

“T-Thanks, but…”

“You have to leave New York?” Peter’s expression fell.

_Yes!_

“No!” Wade gently took his hand and patted the back of it. “I… I will come back soon, I promise.”

_You stupid idiot! What are you doing??_

This wasn’t a lie, it was a promise, and even if it was terribly risky and dangerous, Peter’s huge smile was worth any pain.

 

\- - -

 

He didn’t look for his target that night nor the following day. He stayed in his filthy apartment, thinking about Peter, brooding like a teenager in love, longing for his contact, this time in a completely different manner.

The voices reminded him how stupid he had been, shouted at him and then fell silent, glaring without eyes at their stubborn host that had lost his mind even more for a boy that was barely legal.

He whimpered in his bed for the whole day, then, as the sun was setting, he went to The Daily Bugle, waiting outside and ignoring the glances of the people leaving the building to finally go home and rest.

Peter was among them, looking distraught and distracted, but as soon Wade called him, his face lit up and he ran to him, stopping just in time before an awkward hug could ensue.

“I’m back in town for a few days, so…” Wade shrugged, a lopsided smile badly hidden by the hoodie and baseball cap. Peter’s smile was like a drug and they end up buying some food and going back to Queens, where they ate in the little, cozy apartment with Aunt May.

It was like family and Wade felt like crying. He had to leave, but the more he was with them - with Peter -, the more he got trapped.

The boy’s touches became brave, obvious, and the merc returned them, the urge stronger than him, stronger than anything he had ever felt before. The first time he brushed his feet against Peter’s under the table, the boy blushed so much his Aunt asked him if he was feeling okay. Then he relaxed and when Wade helped him to wash the dishes, his fingers touched the ravaged skin of his wrist every time he passed him a dish, even if it wasn’t necessary.

 _You lost, Wilson._ a voice told him as he said goodbye to Peter and Miss May and promised to come back for lunch the next day. _You are too deep into this now._

_‘I know.’_

_What are you going to do? Will you keep telling lies? Telling stories of heroic missions and team-ups that never happened, leaving out the blood, violence and death you left behind in reality?_

_‘Shut up.’_

_He’s right, you know?_ the other voice chimed in, but Wade - now walking in the streets -, stepped into a dirty alleyway and shot himself to shut them off for a bit.

In the end he called the man who had hired him and told him he didn’t care about the mission anymore. His mind was elsewhere, he didn’t have time nor will to look for the drug dealer and kill him. Spider-Man would find him anyway.

The young hero was the other reason that stopped him from resuming his usual job at New York. He could see him jumping and swinging in the bright sky, sometimes, and he read about him every morning on the newspaper. He intrigued him, but he also didn’t want to meet him anymore and risk his anger; he had enough problems right now.

Peter kept taking wonderful pictures of him, so many and so good that he was known as the official Spider-Man photographer. One day, during lunch, the boy told him with a proud and joyous smile that he got an unexpected rise.

“Good job.” Wade smiled at him, squeezing his hand, and Peter’s smile turned into something sweeter and for a moment it looked like he wanted to do something. He refrained himself and it left Wade feeling disappointed and relieved at the same time.

They kept seeing each other for a long month, during which Wade fought a hard battle, torn by the desire of staying with Peter and the strong urge of leaving him in peace. The latter became the bitter wish of telling him the truth, the truth about himself, about Wade Wilson, about Deadpool… He never found the courage, though, and one night, when Aunt May was out of town to visit a friend, he regretted not having said anything.

“Thanks for taking me home… again.” Peter laughed softly as he stepped into the dark apartment. “Umh… wanna come in?”

“It’s late, Petey.” Wade smiled awkwardly, his heart beating fast, the voices already knowing what was about to happen. “You have work tomorrow, right? You better go to bed now or…”

“I’m not a child.” Peter walked over to him, his eyes glistening in the dark thanks to the feeble light coming from a window. His body was warm, his hand even more when he grabbed his shirt and gently pulled him into the apartment, closing the door.

“Huh…”

Wade gulped when Peter stepped closer, pressing their bodies together and his back against the wooden surface.

“I can see that.” the merc managed to rasp out, but he couldn’t say more because Peter’s lips were on his own, soft, humid and hot, and he lost his infamous Mouth, for the first time reduced to a mute, shocked man.

Peter moaned into the kiss; he wasn’t an expert, that was clear, he had probably never kissed before and Wade felt bad, because he didn’t deserve that boy and his sweet innocence.

“Peter…” He pushed him away, but, damn, the kid was strong! He whined and swept away Wade’s hands, seizing them against the door without problems. He smashed their lips together again, this time using the tongue, and the merc had to use all his willpower not to grind against the lean, young body.

“Peter… baby boy, listen to me…” he gasped when they had to pull away to breathe. “You… you are a good man, you don’t…” He shook his head and moaned when Peter kissed and licked his neck, his mouth gently massaging the scars, never hesitating over them.

“I’ve wanted this for so long!” the boy breathed out, rubbing their hips together, his clothed erection hard against Wade’s body. He was smiling and laughing, excitement and joy bubbling inside him. “I… I didn’t know how to tell you, I feared you didn’t wanted to, but…” He kissed the merc again, a hand going down to open the belt.

_Stop him! You can’t do this, it’s too much!_

God, he felt so good, Peter’s hand was already cupping his manhood, shy and tentatively, but he was _there_ and Wade groaned and grinded into the touch. The boy moaned and started pulling down his own jeans.

“I-I never did this before, but…”

_‘No, no, no… Wake up, Wade, wake up!’_

“Peter…”

“I read all I needed to know though!” Peter giggled and peppered his disfigured face with kisses. “I know how to do it and where to touch you to make you feel good.” His blush deepened. “God, I love your scars!”

Those words made him moan and his heart bled; nobody - _nobody_ \- had ever told him that. What could he possibly do now? He didn’t deserve Peter, he didn’t deserve his love and his sincere words, but he _needed_ him, needed him more than anything.

_‘No, not like this!’_

“Peter!”

His voice must have been terribly scared, because the young man stopped and looked at him with wide eyes.

Wade, sweating and panting, grabbed his shoulders and looked at him in the eye, regretting his words as soon as they came out of his mouth: “Petey, sweetie, I… I have to tell you something. It’s important, so hear me out, okay? Forget about our throbbing erections, our wild fantasies and my scars. Listen to me!”

Peter nodded, still pressed against him, and Wade, gulping and almost shaking, continued: “Honesty is important in a relationship, right? No secrets, no lies, only truth and lots of talking.” He stroked a smooth, sweaty cheek and saw the boy shiver with pleasure under his touch. “You think you know a person, their true identity, and then… you discover that they weren’t who you thought they were and everything crumbles down, but… but at the same time everything is easier and _better_. Do you understand?”

Peter was calm, now, maybe too calm. He nodded again and then smiled.

“You found out, didn’t you?”

“H-Huh?”

The boy kissed him loudly, then hastily pulled up his jeans and said: “You are right, honesty is important. Forgive me, I should have told you a lot sooner!” He looked worried, now, but then his expression turned determined.

“Wait here!”

He ran away, into his room, and Wade heard him open the closet and rummage into it. Clothes fell down - and he tried not to imagine a naked Peter, even if that was going to happen just two minutes before -, then something else was being worn and he frowned, forgetting about his pants dropped on the floor and the underwear still a bit tight.

“Peter…?”

The boy came back into the hallway and for a moment Wade didn’t understand; then the light from the window hit him and the merc froze, a cold sweat running on his back, the voices as shocked as him.

Peter was wearing a Spider-Man costume. _The_ Spider-Man costume.

He _was_ Spider-Man.

“I… I wanted to tell you, but I feared you could get angry.” the boy babbled, the mask lifted up to his nose. “I’m sorry you had to found out through your contacts, Mister Hero, but I swear, I wanted to tell you! It’s just that…”

Wade was shaking, a hand pressed on his mouth not to let the scream inside him escape. Peter explained him how a radioactive spider had bitten him, then he started sobbing, because apparently Uncle Ben’s death had been his fault.

“I-I became Spider-Man to help people.” he sniffed, wiping the tears off his pale cheeks with trembling hands. “I couldn’t save my uncle, I was a _coward_. I have to do this, it’s more important than my life, it’s something I have to do or I would never forgive myself.”

Wade, who was wearing jeans again, opened his mouth to reply, but no sound came out. That was new, it never happened before, the voices were silent too. He felt… empty. A shallow, scarred shell.

“Mister Hero?” Peter - _Spider-Man!_ \- called him, worried. “Are you okay?”

“Y-Yes.” Wade’s voice was hoarser than ever.

Peter smiled and asked timidly: “Then… can you finally tell me your real name? I’m a superhero too, now, we are on the same team! I… I could help you, we could do a team-up or…!”He stopped to bite his lips and fidgeted.

“I-I mean, I’m still a rookie, that’s true, but…” He looked up at the merc again and even if his eyes were covered by the mask, Wade could guess how confident and filled by fire they were. “I’m looking for a drug dealer, right now, and I think I finally found him. Maybe we… we could work together. I learn fast! I can be good, I swear, I won’t bother you!” He walked up to him and it felt so strange, it was like a déjà vu; Wade remembered that night, the things he had told Spider-Man, the jokes, but also their argument about killing and heroes.

He felt like vomiting, the implications of his lies and Peter’s words crushing him like a rock. He had to do something. He had to unravel years of secrets and fake identities and reveal who Wade Wilson was, how he had failed at life and become Deadpool instead.

 _‘Oh, Peter…!’_ he cried inwardly, this time the sudden silence inside his head unbearable. _‘Forgive me!’_

“Please! Tell me who you are.” Peter was insisting, his fingers wrapped around Wade’s hand. “I can’t keep calling you Mister Hero, I want to know you better!”

“No.” Wade rasped out, opening the door behind himself, his eyes dark and sad. “You don’t, believe me.”

He ran away, ignoring Peter’s surprised shout; he didn’t look back and once outside he hid in the darkness of an alley, watching Spider-Man look for him from the sky, holding tight the webs.

He went back home at dawn and spend the whole day in bed, staring at the wall with empty eyes, the voices screaming and telling him to do something as soon as possible.

When night came, he wore his Deadpool costume and went out.  
  
  
  
\- - -  
  
  
  
The drug dealer had just finished talking with some clients when Wade found him. He had been extremely careful, avoiding to be seen not only by the man, but by Spider-Man too, who was hiding in the darkness, stuck to a nearby building.

He had followed the hero; he knew that he would have brought him to the man, he was sure of it. The boy couldn’t see him nor had heard him come; his whole attention was on the criminal, his wrists ready to move and shoot webs.

Wade noticed the nervousness in his stance, his stiff shoulders, his narrowed eyes, and frowned. He had read enough about him to know how his spider-sense worked; he had to be faster than him, to shoot before the hero could sense the weapon. There wouldn’t be more occasions; a single hit, a single bullet, was his only chance.

When the drug dealer walked under the ledge of the roof he was staying on, he didn’t even aim; he just repeated the motion he had done for years, breathing heavily through his nose, mind free from any noise, focused only on a single objective.

 _Kill_.

He pulled the trigger and as soon as the shoot resonated in the air, Spidey was lunging forward the criminal.

“No!”

The man fell, a hole in his head, blood running from a corner of his mouth, making a little puddle under his cheek.

“You…!” Spider-Man shot a web and landed next to Wade, fists closed, his whole body emanating rage. “You… you… _monster!_ ”

Wade didn’t reply, just stared at him, waiting for the punch that punctually arrived and bruised his face.

“You followed me, didn’t you?!” Spider-Man kicked his groin and Wade doubled over, gasping. “How much? Huh? How much did they pay you?”

He kicked his face one last time, then snarled and snapped in half the rifle Wade had used.

“You are _disgusting_.” he growled. For a moment his eyes fell on the corpse of the drug dealer, in the street below, and he became sad. As soon as Wade got up again, though, he glared at him and when he spoke his tone was bitter and furious: “And you are dangerous. You deserve to rot in a prison for the rest of your life.”

Wade’s creepy silence fueled his anger.

“I told you I didn’t want to see you here anymore! Leave this city and its people alone!” He walked over to the merc, jabbing his chest with a finger. “We don’t need another monster. We have plenty of those, including myself.”

“That’s right.” Wade was perfectly calm, his voice expressed no emotion. “That’s the word you must use with me.”

“W-What?”

“I’m not like you.” Wade snorted mirthlessly. “Though I thought I could be a hero once, you know?”

Spider-Man scoffed, his glare never softening, and the merc started walking on the rooftop, his voice still flat and almost serene.

“I was so naïve back then! I thought that everyone kept their promises, that nobody lied and help really could come in the most special way possible. I was so stupid, I didn’t learn anything from my shitty childhood.” Wade bit his lips, gnawed at them. “So I chose. I took a bet. I accepted something I shouldn’t have accepted.”

“I don’t care about the story of your life, Deadpool.” Spider-Man interrupted him, but before he could move, the mercenary was already jumping back, a huge grin plastered under the mask, hands raised defensively.

“No, this concerns you too! Let me finish, Spidey, I want you to hear this!” He chuckled maniacally and his voice cracked for a moment when he continued: “It’s just so _ironic_! And so typical of this fucked up world that it doesn’t even surprise me that much anymore.”

“What are you talking about?” Spidey seemed uneasy and Wade laughed harder, the sound crazier by the second.

“Why, web-head! I’m talking about heroes, of course! Blond, tall and fair heroes who cough out blood and save children from the streets, telling them lies to feel better the next day!”

He saw the boy tense up and widen his eyes, so he approached him, whispering with a dark tone: “Sometimes things go wrong, Spidey. Sometimes you _don’t_ get better and you end up in a shittier life, hoping to die, but you _can’t_. You literally can’t and you don’t see any exit. You have to keep doing what you have done for long years, hating yourself because you won’t ever become someone better, you never _were_.” He burst out laughing, so loud that Spidey flinched. “Are you sure you don’t want my autograph, Spidey?”

“N-No!”

Spider-Man pushed him and stumbled towards the edge of the rooftop, breathing heavily.

“Y-You… you can’t be…!” He shook his head, some spots under the mask already wet due to the tears. “Mister Wade… from that day…”

“Yes!” Wade shouted, suddenly furious, angry at the world and at himself. “Yes, it’s me! The man who found you in the streets and told you all those lies! I’ve never been a hero! I was a _mercenary_ , just like I am now!” He walked over to Spidey in long steps and grabbed his wrist, shouted at his face: “I had cancer and they promised me a cure, a better life! Well, guess what? They lied, I _failed_ and became a guinea pig.”

“S-So… the next year…” Spidey was sobbing, now, his lithe form shaking.

“The next year I was already Deadpool, yes.” Wade’s voice was a growl now. “I killed my target in front of you and scared you for life. Fucking ironic, right? The man you considered a savior had become a disgusting assassin.”

The young man whined and Wade grasped his other wrist, pulling him closer and whispering into his ear: “You would have liked me to say nothing? To let you live in blissful ignorance? To let you keep thinking that heroes are marvelous and kind?”

The boy cried harder, but managed to say through his sobs: “T-There are good heroes. You may have been a lie all my life, but I know a _true_ hero, one who saved me in the park and…”

The mercenary giggled, a creepy, unsettling sound.

“Oh, Peter!” he exclaimed, pinching his cheek. “ _This_ is the best part!”

Then Spidey finally realized.

“H-How did you find out?” he murmured. “How do you know who I am?”

Wade’s eyes tore a hole into his mask and the young hero shivered when he stepped back, letting him go.

“This whole shit has been a stupid game of identities.” the mercenary said under his breath, his voice so low that Spidey wouldn’t have heard him without his enhanced senses. “A play on the stage of Wade Wilson’s shitty life.” He raised his head and for the first time he looked terribly sad, mortified, _sorry_.

“Look, Peter. This is what a failed hero looks like.”

He took off his mask and Peter let out a muffled scream, both hands pressed on his mouth.

“Yes.” Wade murmured, the scars and bumps on his face perfectly visible under the moonlight. “Your precious ‘Mister Hero’ is Wade Wilson, also known as Deadpool the Merc with a Mouth.” He glared at the mask clutched in his hands. “It was me all along. You only met three different versions of the same person.”

Peter was staring at him, his sobs muffled by his hands, his shoulders shaking and his chest heaving erratically. Wade felt something break inside and rushed to him, snatched the mask away from his face and smashed their mouths together.

The boy gasped and after the initial shock pushed him away; Wade’s eyes were crazy, dark, furious.

“What??” he screamed. “I thought you _loved_ my scars! I thought you loved _me!_ ”

“G-Go away!” Peter cried, staring at him with wide, bloodshot eyes. “Please, go away!”

But Wade grabbed him again, held his face between his hands and kissed him for the second time, growling: “You were so eager yesterday! Where is all your arousal now?”; when Peter kicked him, he let him go and fell on the ground, laughing bitterly.

“Your ‘Mister Hero’ is disgusting now, isn’t he?” He paid no mind to the tears streaming down his marred cheeks. “I don’t blame you, Peter. I understand, I really do.” He took out a gun from its holster and pressed it against his temple, smiling sadly at the boy. Peter gawked at him and Wade’s smile grew larger.

“Now, Peter, don’t be sad!” He giggled as tears blurred his sight. “You know what they say? They say that heroes never die.” His expression turned desperate. “I guess that’s valid for monsters too.”

He pulled the trigger and the last thing he saw was Peter.


	4. Hero

"I must admit that was a really good job."

The words startled Peter, who looked with grateful and surprised eyes at Captain America.

"Really?!" he exclaimed and the soldier nodded, albeit his face remained serious and not very friendly. Apparently, he still had some doubts.

"Your help has been useful. Did you make those… things by yourself?"

"Yes." Peter rolled up a sleeve of his costume to show the web-shooter around his wrist. "I also make the webs."

"That’s great. I have the impression you love science, just like Stark."

Peter let out an embarrassed laugh, feeling tremendously childish and _boring_ compared to the man - the _hero_ \- standing in front of him.

"Well, yeah, I… I am a nerd, I suppose."

_Good job, Parker. Now they are totally let you enter the team._

Rogers’ expression softened, but he still looked cautious.

"Listen, Captain…" Peter started fidgeting and chewing his lips like he did when he was nervous. He had been giving a hand and showing up during Avengers missions for four years, now, doing his best to attract their attention. Of course they already knew him - Spider-Man, the new, young superhero that swung above New York and annoyed the hell out of his adversaries! Who didn’t know him!

He needed _more_ , though. He needed to be part of the team, to become an Avenger. It was the only way to reach his objective and finally regain peace.

At first, they had ignored him, just given him short glances. Then, as the citizens of New York had started admiring him a little bit, the other superheroes had begun to talk to him, thank him for his help. Stark had even asked him if he wasn’t too young for that job.

Maybe that was the cause, the reason they never invited him to be part of their group. It was really like highschool, in a certain sense; he was an outcast even in the special world of heroes, even with his powers and selflessness he was considered a weak kid.

Four years had passed since the first time he had tried to catch their attention and admiration. Four years were a lot for a teenager, damn, he was a _man_ now, a twenty years old man who could stick to walls and fight against monsters, robots, and other menaces. They couldn’t keep ignoring his abilities for so much longer.

"I want to be part of the Avengers." Here, he said it.

Captain America hummed thoughtfully.

"We figured it out. We preferred to wait and see what you were up to, but you never caused any trouble. Actually, New York is safer thanks to you and you made our work easier."

"Well, I’d like to receive a reward, now." Peter admitted, forcing his voice to sound almost angry and not pleading like he feared it was. "I think I’ve showed enough for you to be sure about my capabilities."

The soldier sighed through his nose and nodded slowly.

"I will talk with the others. I can’t give you an official answer, but there are high possibilities that you may, in fact, become part of the team. We already discussed about you in the past."

"Thank you!" Peter let out a heavy, relieved sigh. "I… I really need this!"

Rogers’ expression turned severe again.

"There is no pay, son." he warned, thinking that was Peter’s main goal. "We Avengers don’t accept money for what we do."

"I know! It’s not that, I swear!" Peter shook his head so fast he almost heard his neck crack. "I want to help the city! And become one of you guys, a hero!" That word still stung a lot, together with the half-truth he had just said, and Rogers noticed his sudden cringe.

"A hero…" he repeated and Peter’s face became red. He lowered his eyes and didn’t answer, fearing to say too much, too painful things he didn’t want to share; fortunately Rogers understood and didn’t ask more, preferring to bring the conversation back to the main topic.

"Very well. As I said, I will discuss this matter with my friends. We will contact you, so don’t leave the city."

"Oh, that’s not a problem. I am always staying in New York." Peter laughed awkwardly. "To tell the truth, I _never_ left it. Never had enough money to go on a trip.”

Rogers offered a small, sympathetic smile, and the young hero felt the familiar shame that had accompanied him during all his school years coming back to haunt him.

After saying goodbye to him with a polite nod, Captain America went back to the other Avengers and whispered something to Iron Man and She-Hulk, who both looked back at the young man.

Peter felt little and shy under their gaze and swung away, for the first time in years hope blossoming in his heart.

He headed towards home and reached it in a short time. It was night and his Aunt was probably asleep, so he had to be more quiet than usual and not make any loud noise that could wake her up. After making sure nobody could see him, he crawled on the wall, entered from one of the windows of his room he had left open before going out, then took off his costume and hid it in its special place inside the closet.

“Peter?”

Dang!

He hurried to put on his jammies, looked around the room one last time to be sure nothing seemed off, then opened the door. Aunt May was waiting behind it, holding tight the nightgown around her frail body.

“Did the explosions wake you up too?”

Peter cringed inwardly. The battle had been pretty violent and not very far from Queens, so his Aunt had probably heard the chaos and the sirens of the police cars and ambulances running in the streets. He scratched his head, about to answer, but flinched when his fingers found a painful lump caused by the fight.

“Are you okay?” Aunt May asked immediately, placing a soft hand on his nephew’s arm.

“Y-Yes, I’m fine. Just a bad headache.” Peter smiled at her. “I heard all that noise too. I wonder what happened.”

“I was going to turn on the TV just for that reason. Want to watch it with me?” she smiled back at him. “You always loved seeing superheroes and magic battles.”

“It’s not magic, Aunt May.” Peter chuckled as they went into the small living room where the TV was. “Not all of it, anyway.”

“You are an expert, now that you are Spider-Man’s official photographer, huh?” she joked, elbowing him with a playful smirk. The young man snorted and turned on the screen, the images of the battle already being aired.

“Are those robots?” Aunt May cupped her cheek and sighed. “We have had those last week.”

Peter didn’t answer, too busy watching his maneuvers up in the air, the teamwork of the Avengers, his acrobatics with the webs, kicks and punches against the robots’ hard heads. His knuckles still hurt a lot.

“That poor boy sure has grown much.” Aunt May murmured with a fond smile. “I remember him being so much younger and goofy years ago. He was just a child.”

 _‘Goofy?’_ Peter sniffled indignantly. “He was not that bad, Aunt…”

“Oh, no, I am not saying that! He is just much more accustomed to this, you can see it from the way he moves and dodges those things’ attacks.” She perked up as soon as Captain America appeared on the screen. “Oh, look, there is that brave boy too!”

“Do you think they will let Spider-Man be in the Avengers?” Peter brought up the question casually, but his mouth was dry, his chest cold with worry. He needed to hear a confirmation, to be reassured about it, to be told “yes, you are going to make it!”.

“I hope so.” Aunt May’s smile became a little sorry. “It’s always nice to be with someone who can understand and help you rather than fight alone.”

“I think he is ready. To be part of the main team, I mean.” Peter was staring at the void now, his gaze was unfocused. “Maybe people will finally see him as a real hero and not as a menace anymore.”

“Many people already think that. He has saved a lot of lives and I don’t care about what the mayor says.” the old woman raised her back a little, assuming the proud stance she showed when she was certain about her ideas and beliefs. “I think that young boy is a good person. He deserves a chance.”

 _‘Thanks, Aunt May.’_ Peter hid his smile behind a hand, feigning a yawn, but her next words almost made him have a miniature heartattack.

“I am sure Mister Hero thinks the same. He is a man who believes in heroes and Spider-Man is undoubtedly one.”

Her eyes widened when she realized what she had said.

“Sorry, Peter! I… I shouldn’t have mentioned him.” She touched his shoulder, studying his face illuminated by the glow of the TV. It was distant, almost cold, except for the strong sadness visible in his eyes.

“You still miss him a lot, don’t you?” the old lady murmured, stroking his back with the open palm. “Me too, Peter. He was a good man. I am sure he had his reasons to disappear like he did. He was a special agent, after all, he couldn’t spend too much time with us.”

“I know.” Peter swallowed the screaming truth already building in his throat, the urge to shout and say that nothing of what that man had told them was true. “I would just have liked to… to say goodbye.”

He thought about that night of four years ago, the man’s desperate eyes before he shot himself, the blood and pieces of brain splattered on the ground, the heat of his touches and lips still lingering on his body. He remembered vividly the sound, the tears streaming down his face under the mask, the wind blowing in his ears as he left the scene and the body on the roof.

“Yes.” He breathed out, eyes glossy. “I should have said goodbye.”

“Oh, dear. Come here.” Aunt May hugged him and Peter could smell on her the sweet shampoo she used and the aroma of food she had made for lunch.

“I am sure he is okay and didn’t forget us. He is probably busy, maybe… maybe…” she stopped to think and formulate better what she had in mind, then: “Maybe he didn’t visit anymore to let us stay safe! We could have become easy targets and he thought about our safety. He is that kind of person.”

Peter chewed his lower lip to stop the tears in his eyes from falling. Aunt May tightened the hold around him, lulling him like she did when he was little.

“He will come back, Peter. I can feel it. You will meet him again.” she let him go and raised his head with two fingers under the chin, smiling sweetly and understandingly. “Maybe Spider-Man will help you. He is still a young hero, but he _is_ one, isn’t he? He already must have some connections, know people that may tell him where Mister Hero could be. He could give you a hand!”

_‘That’s what I hope too, Aunt.’_

“I don’t know Spider-Man that well.” Peter lied, sniffling to send away the last tears. “But I will definitely try.”

_‘The Avengers are the key. I just need to enter the team and then…’_

The news stopped giving info about the battle, promising more details in the morning; Aunt May turned the TV off, then accompanied her nephew to his room, even giving him a kiss on the forehead to wish him goodnight as she did when he was younger and had bad dreams.

“He will come back.” she repeated before smiling at him and closing gently the door.

Peter wished with all his heart the same thing, like he had done for all those long four years. Everything he had done, apart from _hoping_ , had been fighting, staying up all night in the cold, collecting bruises, scars, wounds to reach a single opportunity, a chance to finally see him again.

He tried to fall asleep, but hours passed, the sun started to rise, and before he could stop his thoughts and hand, he started touching his hard length, muffling his moans into the pillow, imagining the fingers around his dick as scarred and bigger.

He came with a sob and a name on his lips.

“Wade…”

 

\- - -

 

One week later, Iron Man approached him on the rooftop where he was eating his lunch - two simple hot dogs and a bottle of water.

Peter jolted up as soon as he saw him landing on the ground with the engines under his feet; the billionaire even lifted the helmet to get rid of the robotic tone and speak to him face to face.

“You are officially invited to the Avengers Mansion, boy.” he said, his smile warmer than the one Captain America had offered him. “Can you stick to me? We will be faster that way.”

“That… that means…! I…!”

“Breathe, boy. I don’t want to see you have a heartattack.” Stark closed the helmet and motioned him to stick on him. “Cap will tell you everything. Jump on, now!”

Peter didn’t let him repeat it twice and shot a web to the robotic suit’s chest, yelping when the billionaire started the engines and took off.

“Those webs won’t stain the armor, right?”

Peter look up at him and shook his head, still not believing that was really happening. Not only the whole “stick-to-Iron-Man-and-fly-with-him” situation, but also the “maybe-you-are an-Avenger-now” was making his head spin.

“Cap told me you made them and those shooters you use.”

“Y-Yes.”

“Can I look at them later? I am curious.”

He added the “Tony-Stark-is-curious-about-your-science” to the list of things that were totally causing him to have an aneurism and only nodded, not trusting his voice. Fortunately Stark was looking down at him, so he saw the gesture and didn’t ask for a verbal response.

They arrived at the Mansion few minutes later. Stark landed on a terrace and Peter pulled out the webs from his chest with a single motion.

“Let’s go in.” Stark told him nodding towards a French door; the young vigilante gulped and stepped into a cozy and rather wealthy room. The other Avengers were waiting for him there, some sitting on an elegant sofa, others - like Captain America - standing up or resting their back against a wall.

“Spider-Man.” Rogers greeted him and offered him his hand, which Peter accepted with a shaky smile, thankfully partially hidden beneath the mask.

“We discussed your request during these days. It has been rather easy, as we already had some ideas about you.”

“He is scrawnier than I remember.” Peter heard Hawkeye whisper to She-Hulk and he forced himself to ignore the embarrassment those words gave him.

“We read your file. Your age is not clear, but you are undoubtedly very young. And you were clearly a child when you became Spider-Man.” Rogers looked at him with the typical eyes of a worried father. “Can we know how it happened? Or better, _what_ happened?”

“A radioactive spider bit me. Just… that.” Peter started fidgeting, not used to all that attention. Especially the attention coming from other superheroes. “I can stick to walls and any other surface. I have super-strength, too, and a special sense that warns me about danger.”

“Now that’s an useful ability indeed.” Thor intervened and Peter had to breathe deeply not to start babbling like a child.

“My other senses are enhanced, too. I built the web-shooters to move easily around the city.”

“But why did you do it? Why did you became Spider-Man?” Ms. Marvel asked, her tone a bit doubtful. “Don’t tell us you instantly thought about ‘the greater good’ when you obtained those powers because we won’t believe you.”

Peter opened his mouth to reply, but no sound came out, so he slowly closed it, torturing and twisting his hands. He didn’t want to talk about Uncle Ben, not yet, but they needed to hear a good, reasonable motivation behind his decision. Nobody could be that selfless, they were right. Weren’t they…?

He thought about Wade and the first time they met in that cozy bar, so many years ago; about the way he reassured him, helped him find his Uncle and Aunt, his awkward smile when he refused any kind of reward. He was no hero, Peter knew this now, he was already a mercenary, but he had been _selfless_.

He wondered what had been Wade’s motivation behind that gesture, then realized the Avengers were waiting for his answer and put aside those painful memories.

“Someone… someone died because I was a coward.” he responded curtly. “So I decided to become a better person.”

People could become better, right? That was what he hoped, one of the things that could give him relief after… after finding him. If he ever managed to find him, that’s it.

“I see.” Captain America exchanged looks with the others, then walked over to Peter as his teammates sat up or approached them.

“Well, we have seen and heard enough.” the soldier smiled brightly and extended a hand. “Welcome to the Avengers.”

Peter’s heart was about to explode in his chest as he shook Cap’s hand and returned his smile, almost not feeling Stark’s cold pat on his shoulder, his brain ignoring the clapping in the room, Barton and Romanoff’s smile, She-Hulk and Thor’s booming laughter.

“That poor boy is going to faint!”

“Can we know your name, courageous youngster?” the Nordic god asked and Peter’s hands trembled as he slowly removed his mask and showed his face.

“Damn, you _are_ young.” someone commented, although without malice, so Peter just laughed softly and said: “I am Peter Parker. And I am actually twenty.” He played with the mask in his hands and added: “Do… Do I have to sign something? With blood, like a holy pact? Do I have to make a sacrifice to show my loyalty?”

“Nothing of the sort.” Captain America chuckled. “We prepared some food for a little party, though.”

“I would have _loved_ to spit on my hand and share our saliva like the Lost Boy from _Peter Pan_ did, but I guess this is a better way to let someone into a team.” He was feeling witty and funny, calmer; relief was running through his veins like hot, soothing water, and his mind still couldn’t accept fully the situation.

He was an Avenger! He was a _hero_! One of the good guys, that kind of people he had admired for all his life, the kind that had given him courage and love for life.

Once he thought Wade was part of this reality, too, and the irony hit him full force; he was now where Wade had never been, he had become what he had never been, what Wade had _told_ him he was.

Now that the hard part - which had taken him years - was done, he just had to ask for a certain service. He was an Avenger, he could have access to their information, their data, their contacts. They surely knew how to find him, something that he hadn’t be able to do for all that time…

He didn’t know them that well yet, but Captain America was probably his best option. During the party, Peter talked to him a lot and answered all his questions, doing his best to look calm and relaxed, despite the anxiety chewing at his stomach like a little monster. The soldier showed him around, accompanied by the shy Banner and the excited Stark, who looked forward to examine his web-shooters and never stopped talking about them.

Finally, just as the sun was starting to set, Peter managed to be alone with Rogers, in the exact place that most interested him, a sort of super modern computer room with lots of screens, servers, and other stuff he had never seen in his life.

“This is where we collect our data and files.” Rogers told him as they walked over to a huge keyboard and a screen covering the entire wall. He let out a small, embarrassed laugh and suddenly sounded so much younger. “It took me a lot to learn how to use this thing. Stark helped me.”

“So you have files about everyone?”

“Everyone in the super world, yes. Allies, adversaries, neutral people that caught our interest and must be monitored once in a while…” Rogers’ expression became proud and quite happy. “It may sound boring, but I love reading this kind of info. It’s my hobby.”

 _‘Just like those old women who like reading gossip magazines…’_ Peter thought for a moment, then he eyed the screen longingly.

“By any chance… do you know a mercenary called Deadpool?”

Rogers shot him a surprised look.

“Of course I know him. Wade Wilson.”

Hearing that name pronounced out loud made Peter’s stomach twitch in pain and nostalgia, but he kept a straight face and nodded.

“Yes, him. Can… can I read his file?”

“Oh, so this is why you wanted to be part of the team?” Rogers joked with an amused smile, pressing some buttons to turn the screen on. “Why are you so interested in him?”

“I met him. Years ago. I…” Peter stopped when the masked picture of Deadpool appeared on the screen. His mouth went dry as his eyes started swelling up. So much time had passed and he still remembered his voice and touch as if it was yesterday.

Next to the picture, there was some basic information about him, such as age, weight, and height. Rogers pressed a key and a new page appeared, describing the mercenary’s supposed early life, his main jobs and missions, his character and dangerousness.

“Abusive family… Army… Oscar Zero… Cancer… Weapon X program.” Peter read fast, voice low, hands gripping the edge of the console. “Failed. Acquired a healing factor and consequently immortality, however… mentally unstable due to the constant pain caused by the cancer and healing factor continuously fighting each other… whole body and face scarred and disfigured for same reason… schizophrenia and many mental illnesses caused also by the traumas and tortures received at The Hospice of the Weapon X program…” He swallowed a big lump in his throat, tears prickling his eyes. “I-I knew it was bad, but this…”

“Son? Are you okay?” Rogers went near him, placing a comforting, heavy hand on his shoulder. Peter nodded, barely aware of the hot tears now streaming down his cheeks.

“He is not classified as an enemy.” he murmured, eyes widening with happy surprise. “He is neutral.”

“He actually gave us a hand on multiple occasions.” Rogers admitted. He sighed and added: “It’s a particular and difficult situation. He is not a bad person, but he constantly shifts between good and bad, never finding his place. He doesn’t belong anywhere. Sometimes he brings havoc, sometimes he helps saving people and even the world.”

“W-Was he here?! In New York?”

“No, we always met him on missions far from here.” Rogers shook his head, frowning with worry. “Why all this interest towards Wilson? Did he do something to you?”

“Yes. I mean, no.” Peter looked away from the picture, his heart beating like a hammer, palms sweaty, head dizzy. “I have to meet him, though, Captain. I _must_ meet him.” He didn’t care if he sounded begging and desperate, he was so near! So near!

“I tried everything, but I didn’t have enough information, enough contacts, I didn’t have _anything_. It’s really important, it’s almost _vital_ for me, I…”

“So this is _really_ why you wanted to be an Avenger!” Rogers exclaimed, his eyebrows going up. “To find him?”

“Yes.” Peter admitted, not even caring if he had been too fast and had ruined every kind of good impression he had made on the other superheroes. Maybe he had rushed, had been too hasty, but when he had seen the file and Wade’s picture he had stopped giving a damn.

Captain America stared at him for a long time before speaking, his face completely blank, his voice devoid of any strong emotion.

“I see.”

He typed something on the console and a series of numbers and dates appeared.

“I will contact S.H.I.E.L.D. and ask them if they can give us any way to contact Wilson. As you can see, they hired him in the past, so I’m sure they will help.”

Peter’s breath became erratic due to sheer joy and excitement. There was finally a way which could lead him to Wade, a way to talk, explain, understand… For a moment he saw the imagine of his bloody head, the bullet wound on it, the smoke coming out of the gun; then he saw something else, something that hadn’t happened, but that he hoped would soon. Wade sitting in front of him, without mask, without costume, without fear and sadness in his eyes. Wade talking to him and telling him what he felt. Peter imagined himself taking his hand and listening, doing what he hadn’t done, and tears came back into his eyes.

“Are you sure he didn’t do anything to you?” Rogers insisted, a paternal worry on his face for the second time. Peter hummed and nodded, drying his tears with a sleeve.

“Thank you, Captain. It means everything to me.” He blushed, shame finally coming to him. “I am sorry. I was sure you wouldn’t have given me the info I wanted without first knowing I could be trusted, so I asked to be part of the team. I… I have been rude.”

“Maybe we wouldn’t have helped you, years ago, that’s true.” Rogers admitted, then smiled. “Don’t worry, son. We are sure you are a good man, now, so I am glad we can be of assistance.”

“I… I have to ask you another favor.”

Peter looked at the screen again, Deadpool’s picture still on it.

“If you manage to call him, please don’t say my name. Tell him that you are interested in his services or… or… I don’t know, just don’t tell him I am here or he will never come.”

“Very well.” Rogers nodded and Peter added, now looking at him: “I swear I will do everything you will tell me to do once this is over and I will never complain. It’s the only personal favor I will ever ask, promise.”

“Don’t worry.” the soldier patted his shoulder and reassured him with another smile. “You are an Avenger and we help each other as much as we can.” He glanced up at the screen. “Would you like to have the printed version of that file?”

“Yes, please.”

When he went back home, he spent the whole night reading all the available information about Wade, learning about every single job he had done, studying his tactics and strategies, his modus operandi, his way of cooperating.

He fell asleep at dawn, holding close to his chest all the pictures of him he had found.

 

\- - -

 

Two days later, he received a text from the special number Avengers used to contact each other.

_“We found him. We are ready to call him whenever you are.”_

He had never swung so fast above the city before and when he reached the Mansion, his breath was heavy and sweat was streaming down his face.

“Wow, someone is really eager to hear a psychopathic mercenary talk nonsense and laugh hysterically!” Stark joked and Peter’s answer was a low whine and his mask twisted in his hands.

They all went to the computer room, where the main screen was already turned on. Peter hid behind a huge server and motioned Captain America to begin.

“S.H.I.E.L.D. gave me the number.” the soldier mumbled as he typed it on the keyboard. “Let’s just hope it still works…”

Everyone waited patiently as the call started.

“Why are we doing this again?” Clint asked Natasha with a whisper and the woman answered, perfectly calm: “The new guy wants to meet the crazy mercenary for reasons still unclear.” Her lips curled slightly upwards. “Maybe a love story…?”

“Huh.”

“You said it.”

Finally someone picked up and Peter’s breath hitched in his throat.

“Deadpool here.”

He almost sobbed out loud; he had to press a hand on his mouth to muffle the sound, still unable to accept it was not a dream, that he was really hearing _his_ voice after all that time.

“Good morning, Wilson. It’s Captain America and the other Avengers.”

“Damn!” the mercenary squealed in delight. “Cap! This is a _wonderful_ surprise! To what do I owe the honor of your call?”

“Business.” Rogers was good at it. His voice was clear, he never hesitated, he went straight to the point. “We would like to hire you for a delicate matter.”

“Now that’s weird.” Deadpool mumbled, suddenly less cheerful than before. “You guys usually _never_ ask for my services, unlike your S.H.I.E.L.D. colleagues.”

“This time we really need your help.” Rogers glanced at Peter, who was crying silently and basking in Wade’s voice. “We can pay you well, if that’s what worries you.”

“Nah, I would accept to work for you guys even for two bucks!” the merc was all happy and giggly again. “But first I want to know what kind of job it is. You know, to bring the right weapons and stuff. Don’t wanna come to fight monsters or robots with lame guns or without my special bombs. It’s super important to pick the right weapons, Cap, it’s not like I only have one thing like you! I…”

“Wilson.” Rogers’ tone was a bit severe now. “Focus. The job is simple, but we would prefer to speak about it face to face.”

“Ooh, it must be a big secret, then. Good, I _love_ secrets!”

“Could you please meet us at the coordinates we are sending you right now as soon as possible?”

Peter closed his eyes and started mumbling a prayer.

“You mean… we have to meet in _New York?_ ” Deadpool exclaimed. There was an odd silence, kind of creepy considering who he was, then he answered, with a serious and gravelly voice: “I suppose I can, yes.”

 _‘Thank you, God.’_ Peter let out a shaky, relieved sigh, tears still wetting his eyes and cheeks. He got some surprised glances from the others, but everyone stayed quiet as Rogers went on: “We will wait for you, then. Please hurry.”

“I didn’t hear or read anything about problems in New York, though.” Wade sounded cautious, unsure. He wanted to hope, but also didn’t want to be ripped off. “It must really be a _very_ secret thing, huh?”

“It is.” Rogers assured him without losing his cool. “There are no dangers in the city. It’s more like a… personal Avengers mission.”

“Oh. Oh, okay!” Deadpool was back to his usual self. “That’s cool! I just received your text with the address, I will be there… huh, let’s say… tomorrow morning? Is that okay for you good guys?”

“It’s perfect, thanks.”

“No problem, Cap. Oh, oh! Can I visit the Mansion?? Please, I always wanted to see it! Is it true that there are ten bathrooms there?”

“There are only five, actually…” Stark mumbled, but Deadpool didn’t hear him and kept talking until Rogers had to interrupt him.

“It’s better to end this conversation now, Deadpool. As I said, this mission is kind of a personal matter and we don’t want anybody to find out that…”

“That you hired me. Yeah, I know.” the merc’s voice sounded totally normal, but it hid an undertone of resignation. “Don’t worry, Cap, I will be as quiet as a mouse. Although mice aren’t really _that_ quiet, I don’t get why-”

“We will see you tomorrow, then. Goodbye, Deadpool.” Cap ended the call and sighed, as the others turned around to look at Peter.

He was still crying against the server, his face paler due to agitation and anxiety.

“I still don’t get why you want to meet this crazy guy so much…” Stark started, a hand on his hip, the other scratching absentmindedly his chin. “I guess it must be important if you are shedding all those tears for him. I just hope it’s worth it, because I really, _really_ dislike the idea of Deadpool being here in New York.”

“I am sorry.” Peter croaked out; the billionaire dismissed his words with a wave of his hand and smiled at him.

“It’s okay. Just don’t let him break anything.”

 _‘I can’t promise that.’_ the young hero thought bitterly, not wanting to imagine Wade’s reaction. He managed to return the smile and got up to thank all the others, especially Rogers.

“Thank you for this. I… I really don’t know how to repay you.”

“You are part of the team, now.” Banner replied, a kind smile making his ever-tired face brighter. “If you need help with Deadpool, call us, okay?” He looked embarrassed now. “Or better, call _them_. I would probably snap in his presence and destroy some buildings.”

“Thank you. But I am sure I can handle him.”

_‘I hope.’_

 

\- - -

 

The meeting place was a quiet industrial district at the outskirts of the city; it was not very populated and there were many abandoned warehouses and factories that could offer silence and privacy.

Peter was hidden behind some crates when Deadpool finally arrived.

He hadn’t changed; he was still the same tall, big, almost beefy man, his katanas and guns shining under the weak sunlight. He was talking to himself out loud, his booming voice resonating in the large open space they were in.

The young hero had to breathe deeply and count to ten to calm himself and free his mind from any bad memory and fear. His heart was throbbing with pain, rage, sadness, and that longing feeling that hadn’t left him since that fateful day on the rooftop. He prayed his Uncle to give him enough strength to face Wade, prayed there could still be hope, still a chance to fix, if not everything, at least a small part of that chaos.

“Uh, good guys? Where art ye at?”

A moment of silence, then Wade’s voice became furious and he started arguing with one of the voices he heard in his head. Peter had read about those in his file and he couldn’t believe how normal Wade had seemed to him and his Aunt when he still was Mister Hero. Had the voices screamed at him during those days, calling for attention? Did he do everything he could to cope with his mental problems to avoid scaring Peter and Aunt May?

_‘Selfless. Once again.’_

Peter sniffed, dried the last tears, and came out from behind the crates just when Wade was shouting at the voices that, _yes_ , he was perfectly sure this was the right place.

“Wade.”

His spider-senses went crazy as soon as he pronounced those words; Wade turned around and aimed a gun at him, fast as lightning.

He stayed quiet, uncharacteristically silent, but Peter was sure he was mentally screaming. In the literal sense.

“Wad-”

“Don’t.” his voice was like ice, murderous, almost unrecognizable. “Don’t fucking say that name.”

“I…” Peter swallowed, forcing himself not to burst into tears. He had done everything to arrive to this moment and he wouldn’t waste this chance. He couldn’t.

“I want to talk.” he said and his voice didn’t tremble, he managed to make his tone serious and determined. “We _need_ to talk.”

“Like hell we do.” Wade’s eyes were hidden by the mask, but Peter didn’t need to see them to know how they looked. Crazy, furious, panicked… sad?

“You did all of this?” the merc gestured to the whole place with the free hand. “Are you friend with the mighty Avengers, now?”

“I asked for their help. I tried to find you for the last four years, but I couldn’t do anything without them.” Peter dared to step forward and Wade growled, causing him to stop. “Please. I just want to talk, Wade.”

“I’m going to fucking _shoot_ you if you repeat that name!” the merc shouted, startling him. His voice became a whisper, equally frightening: “Do you know how _difficult_ it was to come here again? I looked up in the sky, fearing to see you, the whole time. Why do you keep _torturing_ me?”

“I… I am sorry.” Peter started losing his calm demeanor, all the grief stuffed inside for four years coming back, bubbling in his stomach and chest like an eruption. “I am sorry for that night on the rooftop. I didn’t mean to hurt you, Wade, I…”

A shoot and he jumped back, forced by his senses which were making him sweat like crazy, warning him of the extreme dangerousness.

“The next bullet will be for that stupid head of yours.” Wade promised, re-aiming the gun at Peter, who inhaled and exhaled slowly, blood pumping in his ears.

“I left you there and I am sorry for that! I was scared and… and so shocked, I couldn’t…” he swallowed the lump in his throat hoping to stop the tears already wetting his eyes. “I didn’t know what to think or do, so I panicked and ran away while you were there, dead and blood-stained.”

“I do it all the time.” Wade spat back and knowing he often killed himself made Peter bite his lips not to openly cry.

“I shouldn’t have left you like that, though.” he repeated and his expression softened, turned terribly sad. “I am sorry.”

“Fine. Apologies accepted. Are we done?” the other man glared at him, the gun still up. “I have nothing to say to you, kid.”

“I am _not_ a kid!” Peter yelled, taking off his mask with a swift, quick gesture. He saw Wade stiffen, probably surprised by his now adult look, and added, tears of rage and distress running down his cheeks: “I am no longer the child you saved from the streets! I am no longer the little loser you protected in the park!” He shot a web at the gun, snatching it out of Wade’s grip, and webbed his arms at his sides before he could take another one.

“See?? I am stronger than you now!”

Wade flailed to free himself, but he only managed to fall on the ground; he cursed and glared at Peter, kicking like a madman.

“I should have ignored you and those bullies!” he roared, wriggling in the dust and dirt. “Or better yet, I should have left you in that fucking bar! All of this shit wouldn’t have ever happened!”

“Stop.” Peter whispered, kneeled down next to him and holding him still with his super-strength. “I know you don’t mean it.” He smiled through the tears and gently removed Wade’s mask, making him gasp and finally decease his attempts to free himself from the webbing.

His face was exactly like Peter remembered it. Full of scars, painful bumps, sores, deep lines meeting and intersecting on his skin, creating weird patterns, the texture coarse. He touched a cheek, then took off the gloves of his Spider-Man costume to feel the skin.

Wade was staring at him, his eyes wide with sorrow and the same despair he had on the rooftop; he let out a breathy, low moan when he felt Peter’s bare hands on his face, touching his brows, his cheeks, his lips.

“What do you want from me?” the merc cried, hanging his head; Peter’s hands cupped his face and delicately brushed the thumbs on the scars. “Why won’t you leave me in peace?” Wade lifted his gaze, now glossy and teary. “I am _garbage_ , do you understand this?” He whimpered, hiding his face again. “I lied to you and… and… I am not even worthy to look at you in the eyes.”

Peter bended down and pressed a kiss on his temple. _God_ , he had missed that feeling so much! He wanted to kiss that face and hold Wade close forever, forgetting about that pain, about that crazy situation that had lasted for so long, since little Peter Parker had met Wade Wilson at that bar.

Wade gasped when he felt his soft lips on his skin and went into panic again.

“Leave me alone!” he shrieked, writhing in Peter’s arms, which kept him still. “Go away! _Please!_ ”

“No!” Peter replied, his voice high to be heard among Wade’s yelling. “I already left you once! I won’t repeat the same mistake!”

Wade whined, then the sound became lower until he started sobbing. He pressed his face against Peter’s stomach and bawled, hot tears wetting the young man’s spandex, the big, scarred body trembling. Peter wrapped his arms around him, hugging him tight, and lulled him back and forth.

“Peter…” Wade sobbed. “Peter…”

The younger man blinked to see better through the tears and tore away the webbing from the merc’s body; soon Wade’s arms encircled his waist and he leaned down to kiss his head again.

“I am sorry.” he repeated, but Wade shook his head and looked up at him with bloodshot eyes.

“No, Peter. _I_ am sorry.” he rasped out, his voice hoarser than ever. He lifted a hand and gently caressed Peter’s face. “Look at you… all grown up and brave and… beautiful.” He smiled weakly. “It seems like it was only yesterday that I held your hand through those streets and saved you from those bullies.”

Peter laughed softly and helped him sit up, never letting his hands go. He squeezed them and said bluntly, without hesitating: “You lied. You pretended to be someone you weren’t and deceived me and my Aunt. You hurt us.”

Wade blushed and lowered his eyes, quiet. But Peter put two fingers under his chin, lifted his head to keep looking at him, and continued: “You said you had superpowers, that you were a special agent, that you saved people.” He tightened the grip around the merc’s hand and his lips quivered. “You said you were a _hero_. Those things weren’t true.”

Wade didn’t hide his shame and let Peter see it clearly in his eyes and scarred face. But his bashful and mortified expression became surprised, _shocked_ , when the young man smiled at him and concluded: “But you are _my_ hero. You saved me twice and never asked anything in return. You made me stronger and you didn’t even realize it.” Peter’s eyes were filled with tears now. “You loved me and cared for me, even when the world was spitting on you and making you suffer. So you are my hero, Wade Wilson.”

The scarred man was crying with him, head now resting on his chin, tears falling down on the ground. His shoulders were shaking and Peter slowly pulled him closer, kissing his cheek and lips.

“Peter…” Wade sobbed, trying to hide his face into his hands, but the young man stopped him and kissed him again, this time more deeply, tasting the salty tears and feeling the rough texture of his skin on his lips, the sensation he had never forgotten and never stopped desiring.

“I love you, Wade.” he murmured and the merc cried harder. They kissed for a third time and Wade returned his hug, pressed their bodies together with urgency, sucked his lips and tongue, caressed his hair while Peter moaned and touched every inch of his face.

“Let’s go.” he whispered, pressing a hot kiss on a scar. “Together.”

Wade nodded and this time Peter was the one who took his hand and guided him home.

 

The apartment was quiet, empty; they were alone, but they didn’t rush. 

Wade looked around with a nostalgic glint in his eyes and asked softly: “Your Aunt?”

“Away with some friends.” Peter answered in a whisper, their hands still entwined, and led him to his room; once there, they slowly undressed each other, taking their time.

Wade was extremely shy; he covered his naked body with his arms and hands, stayed in the shadows of the room until Peter gently started kissing and touching him; they explored each other, moaning into every single kiss and touch, then the young man brought him to the bed. It was _Peter’s_ first time, but Wade looked like the inexpert one, the clumsiest. Only when Peter pulled him to lie down on the bed with him, the scarred man stopped being in a haze and finally took the initiative.

“Peter…” he murmured settling between his legs and making the young man gasp. They were hard, a bottle of lube next to them, and Wade closed his eyes, rested his forehead against Peter’s, breathed in his scent.

“I don’t want you to regret this. I… I don’t want you to hate this.”

“I won’t.” Peter assured him, caressing his back and face. “I won’t regret this, Wade, nor hate it.” His expression turned scared. “What about you?”

Wade opened his eyes and smiled down at him.

“I could never regret this.” he said, brushing back his soft, brown hair from his face. “Peter… baby boy…”

Peter giggled hearing the nickname and Wade’s whole face lit up.

“I love you.” he said and Peter knew it was true and all the pain and fear he had held inside exploded into joy and relief. When Wade inserted two digits into him, he bit his lips, moaned, let him know how much he was enjoying the feeling. Wade slipped into him soon after and told him sweet, grateful words of endearment and love until they both were gasping and moving quickly together; he was gentle, gave him time to adjust to the new sensations, and Peter basked in every touch, in every thrust, let pleasure and love invade him fully until he let them burst with a loud shout.

They came at the same time and lied down together, sweaty and sticky, their limbs tangled. Peter brushed his fingers on Wade’s cheeks and smiled.

“Wade?”

“Yeah?”

“You still have to give me your autograph.”

Wade blinked, bewildered, then laughed; at first it was a low chuckle, then it grew and became a warm, booming laugh that filled the whole room and Peter’s heart with a good feeling.

“Okay, Petey.” he said returning the smile the young man was still giving him. “Only if you give me yours, though.”

And Peter, blushing with happiness, nodded and kissed him, peace finally come to them both.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And..... it's finished! 
> 
> I decided to follow my heart and some readers' suggestions to write this final chapter. This ending shouldn't be that surprising, considering the kind of fluffy sap I am, but it's been a pretty wild and angsty ride and I am glad I managed to write something like this. I hope it's good enough! (also forgive me for any typos) 
> 
> When I wrote the first chapter, I had no idea this fic could become so long and appreciated. Thank you all for reading and commenting, you are the best!

**Author's Note:**

> I'm pretty sure this fic can be considered an AU, because when Wade became Deadpool, Peter was already Spider-Man and not a little child. So the age gap in this is pretty big.
> 
> However in my other stories Wade is not very much older than Peter - maybe ten years older or something like that, so Peter is in his twenties and Wade in his thirties, the age at which he supposedly entered the Weapon X program. This is the only fic I've written with a very young Peter, so forgive me if something sounds off.
> 
> Thanks for reading!


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